


Into Darkness

by Blue_Eyed_Raven



Series: Into Darkness 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU-supernatural, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Castiel/Dean Winchester Angst, Character Death, Community: spn_reversebang, Dark Magic, Dream Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss of a loved one/grief, M/M, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Top!Castiel, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 08:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3284234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Eyed_Raven/pseuds/Blue_Eyed_Raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For generations, the lives of the Novaks and the Winchesters were intimately intertwined, thus ensuring the most potent of magicks through the bloodlines. So this was the case with 2 year old Castiel and baby Dean, but darkness soon cast its shadow over them, spinning their lives (and destinies) down different paths.<br/>Spurred on by tragedy, Dean's actions start a chain reaction that will change the course of their lives, forever. But will it be enough?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my Beta, [wincechesters](http://wincechesters.tumblr.com) who also helped me through this whole process. Being as this is my first fic, ever, you could say I was a wee bit nervous and full of questions. I'd also like to say thank you to my wonderful artist, Jaelijn. Check her stuff out [here](http://castielslight.tumblr.com) OR [here](http://jaelijn.livejournal.com/) You too have had to deal with my virgin status for this SPN_reverse!Bang challenge. ;) Your art is amazing and it's been wonderful working with you!  
> And last, but not least! I'd like to thank [freeagentgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/freeagentgirl) for being a wonderful sounding board. Without you I would've been stuck in storytelling hell! ;)

 

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/ggULk3H)

(Lawrence Kansas—January 31, 1979)

A gentle breeze cut through the bare branches and spruce boughs, the snow covered ground sparkling in the pale white light of the full moon. It was unusually cool and an unexpected snowfall had hit the city of Lawrence the day before. It was almost like the god and goddess were blessing the ceremony with a prophecy of happiness, fertility and wealth.

It was one week after the birth of Dean Winchester. His arrival into this world brought together the two most powerful Wiccan covens—the Winchester’s and Novak’s—to celebrate his birth in addition to performing the Wiccan blessing in the betrothal of the newborn Dean and the two year old toddler, Castiel Novak. For centuries it had been done this way: every second generation the oldest Winchester is betrothed to the youngest Novak. It didn’t matter the sex of the children; it was all about harnessing the power of the two families. Whether it be from traditional mating or through Wiccan essence filtered into the unborn child through blood magicks in a same sex union, the desire to keep producing powerful kin was key.

Dressed in a black cloak, the head of the Winchester family, John, held onto his son who was swathed in thick, soft blankets. He smiled and cooed up at his father, his chubby cheeks now rosy from the cool winter night air. John’s blue eyes sparkled with the love he felt for his son. Waking him from his reverie, his wife Mary stood beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. The royal blue cloak she wore offset her long, curled blonde hair beautifully. Dean already seemed to possess his mother’s beauty and John hoped Dean would inherit the same spray of freckles across his cheeks and green eyes that Mary had.

The group that had convened wasn’t very large. It was only John, Mary and Dean that made up the Winchester’s, though baby Sammy would come along three and a half years later. The Novak clan was larger. James Novak was the proud father of five children: Michael who was the eldest at fifteen; then eleven year old Luke; eight year old Gabriel; followed by his only daughter Anna, who was four; and the youngest Novak, two year old Castiel. John knew James was doing his best at raising his brood, but over the last two years, since the birth of Castiel and the death of his wife Naomi in childbirth, even he could see the stress of raising his family alone was getting to James.

John watched James, who was dressed in a similar cloak as he was, stoke the bonfire. His children ran around the fire playing, except for Michael who watched closely over his siblings. John couldn’t help but smile. He was elated to have their families join officially. He’d known James all his life; he was his best friend.

“So Jimmy, are we ready to begin?"

James Novak stopped poking at the fire to look up at John with a scowl.

“I have told you over and over, I don’t like that moniker. Why do you insist on calling me that?”

“Because it bothers you, that’s why.”

Mary smacked his stomach to stop him from teasing the other man. John’s deep laughter filled the night air.

Ignoring the mirth, James answered flatly, “Yes, we are ready. Castiel, come here please.” In an instant all the children stopped their games and stood stock still. It was Gabriel that grabbed his little brother’s hand and brought him over to their father. With Dean still in his arms, John quickly made his way over to them by the bon fire.

The rest of the Novak children surrounded Mary and waited for Gabriel to join them. When he did, James looked at John before starting the blessing ritual of betrothal. John knelt on one knee in the snow facing Castiel. Castiel’s large, shockingly blue eyes looked from John down to Dean, and the sweetest smile altered his tiny features. John knew that Castiel didn’t really understand what was going on, but he only hoped that as the years passed and the two boys grew up together that a love would develop and be nurtured between the two, like he had with Mary.

John reached into the tightly wound blanket and pulled Dean’s chubby arm free. “Give me your hand, Castiel,” he said softly. The young boy nodded then raised his hand toward him. John grabbed his tiny hand and placed it on top of Dean’s. James then stepped toward them, narrow red ribbon in hand, and started to wrap it around their wrists. As he did, he began to recite, “May the loving protection of the Lord embrace you; may the light of the Lady shine upon you; may the memories of this day forever touch you. Because love is a light to guide you, and love is a blanket to warm you, and love is a wonder given to you, to cherish and hold forever.”

James paused and looked at John, asking him a question silently. John knew what he was asking and he nodded. Pushing back the cloak, James pulled a small dagger from its sheath that hung from his belt. The short silver blade shone in the firelight as it was handled. He stepped closer to Castiel, John and Dean. Hovering over them, James reached down, first holding onto his son’s hand to steady it. Quickly he pierced the tip of the blade into Castiel’s thumb. The quick sting of pain made him frown. The instant the boy scowled, John fought back the urge to laugh for Castiel looked so much like his father; even at such a young age it was astounding. However, his smirk faded as James then went to pierce Dean’s finger with the blade. John was both pleased and surprised that Dean took it with barely a reaction other then watering eyes and the threat of crying. But when John shushed him, he settled down quickly.

“It is with our love and ancestral power that we bless this hand-fasting,” James added and began to unbind the loosely tied ribbon from their sons’ wrists. Leaning closer to his son he whispered into Castiel’s ear, “Now you need to kiss the wound.” Castiel nodded seriously, like he knew it was his duty, and without hesitation he leaned forward and gently kissed baby Dean’s thumb. Unconsciously, Castiel licked his lips and as he did, he licked Dean’s blood which sealed his end of the blessing.

“Now let Dean kiss your wound,” John said softly. Castiel nodded once again and put his wounded thumb against Dean’s tiny lips. When he pulled his hand back the droplet of Castiel’s blood was left behind. Without even knowing he had to, Dean pursed his lips and then instinctively licked the blood, thereby sealing his end of the blessing.

“So mote it be!” James Novak cried out jovially, a wide grin spread across his face.

“So mote it be!” Both Mary and John repeated, and then the rest of the children chimed in with the same chant.

 

That January night, two lives had been blessed to be together. However, they soon fell into darkness and confusion—they could only dream of the bright vivid clarity of their shared desire to be together.


	2. Chapter 1

[ ](http://imgur.com/fn9nvsB)

(Lawrence Kansas—June 18, 2014)

The screaming sirens of fast approaching first response vehicles filled the humid summer night air. Trapped in the driver’s seat, Dean turned to look at his wife. Lydia was unconscious and unresponsive when he called out her name repeatedly, the worry and desperation thick in his voice. He could see a thick line of blood oozing from her ear. He knew this wasn’t good. Needing to distract him from his morbid thoughts of the grim reaper coming to visit, he decided to check on his daughter, Emma. Instantly the air was punched from his lungs when he saw that she was slumped forward in the booster seat. The seat belt was the only thing holding her upright. Glass from the shattered window sparkled all over her and the place her tiny skull impacted with the glass was smeared with blood. Dean could barely say her name.

It had been raining earlier that evening when he took his family out for dinner at a burger joint and a movie afterward: _How To Train Your Dragon 2_ —Emma’s choice. There was no way he was going to win against his four year old daughter, and besides, Dean couldn’t find it in him say no to her either. So he sat through the nearly two hour animated movie. Even though he did enjoy it, he would never let anyone know that small fact.

Emma had fallen asleep in her booster seat as he and Lydia talked about trivial stuff as they headed home. It wasn’t really late, only nearing nine pm, when out of nowhere, someone ran a red light and t-boned the Impala on the passenger side. It was later that night that he overheard one of the emergency nurses and doctors at the hospital talking to the police. The driver who hit them was an older male, in his early fifties, who was drunk.

“Sir... Sir! Can you hear me? What’s your name?” a male voice woke him but he didn’t escape the nightmare. Dean turned to look at who was yelling at him. To his utter shock and amazement, the driver side door had been opened already. So rather than looking out the window, he just looked up with ease to see the fireman who stood there.

Dean nodded. After a moment he responded, “Dean Winchester.”

“We need to use the _Jaws of Life_ to get your wife and child out. You need to come with me.”

Dean nodded his dazed compliance.

The fireman turned and nodded to one of his colleagues. When the other man who was a paramedic approached, he brought a stretcher with him. The two men collected Dean from the mangled Impala and placed him carefully onto the stretcher. All the while, the paramedic braced his head from any major movement. Once lying down, a neck brace was put around his neck and his body was strapped to the gurney and they started to wheel him away.

“Wait!” he yelled out. “My wife, my daughter... Where are you taking me? I can’t leave!” He started to squirm under the restraints. The gurney paused and the EMT looked down at him, a look of sympathy on his face that broke his heart. It spoke volumes. Dean didn’t need to know the man to know what he was being sympathetic for.

“Dean,” the paramedic said firmly, yet gentle in his tone. “The first response fire team will get your family out of the car soon. They will be at the Lawrence Memorial Hospital. That is where we are taking you. Your injuries are more significant than you may think. So please, stay still and let me and my team take care of you.”

Dean went still and as the words the man was telling him sunk in, the tears that had been building fell. Not that the EMT actually said it; his tone only confirmed what his instincts already told him. Before they closed the rear doors to the ambulance, the whir of machinery and screeching of bending metal and breaking glass resounded in the night air. Not long after the vehicle began to roll forward, Dean fell unconscious.

[ ](http://imgur.com/QUEkoNs)

(Pontiac Illinois, June 18, 2014)

 

Castiel looked at the glowing blue numbers of his alarm clock: 4:17am. A long sigh passed his lips as he lay in bed. He pressed a cool hand against his fevered sweaty, forehead and attempted to calm his rapid breathing. Most nights he dreamed of the man with short cropped sandy brown hair, the man who had been blessed with a soft spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and moss-green eyes that sparkled with a sensuous burn. He wished he was having a “good” dream—otherwise known as a sex dream—but alas, his brain was playing horrible tricks on him. Instead Castiel dreamt of his coveted companion in a deadly car accident. Castiel didn’t like it at all.

Over the years Castiel would have to tell himself that the man wasn’t real, but the fact that he had been dreaming of him for most of his life is where it became tricky for him. He had feelings for this green-eyed boy who grew to be a teen, and was now a full-fledged man at roughly the same rate as himself. He interacted with this person in his dreams all the way from childhood to now, and he feared that this nightmare was his mind telling him blatantly to give up on the idea of finding that someone perfect in his life. That he had to suck it up and accept the love that he was receiving from the man who laid beside him now.

Another sigh escaped him when guilt twisted his gut as he looked over at his lover of the past five years. Balthazar had always been good to him. He put up with Castiel’s multiple idiosyncrasies, didn’t ask questions—well, _many_ questions anyhow—about his family and why they never visited them or vice versa. He felt such guilt that he couldn’t love Balthazar back the way that Balthazar loved him. Castiel knew that, despite his efforts at masking that, his lover could never understand what it was that held Castiel back from loving him back wholly. Whenever Balthazar tried to bring it up, Castiel would become furious and instantly deflect to something else, which was usually something stupid, and would eventually storm off. He was never good with his feelings, let alone telling his lover that he wished to be with someone who he made up in his mind.

Castiel sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, trying his best not to wake Balthazar. However, he could hear the man stir as he woke. “Hey babe... You getting up already? It’s still dark out.” Castiel looked over his shoulder at him, a fond smile spreading across his face. He knew Balthazar wasn’t truly awake and his dazed state was cute.

“Don’t worry. Go back to sleep, I’ve got it under control.” Out of the blue, in his partner’s groggy state, a sly smile crossed his lips. Castiel knew right away what he was thinking. “No, I didn’t have one of those ‘good dreams,’ go back to bed.” Castiel couldn’t help but chortle as his lover’s smile faded. Balthazar grumbled and rolled over and he was out again. That was one thing that Balthazar benefited from Castiel’s fantasy affair—the sex dreams alone made him hornier then all get out, and well, when you have a warm body beside you willing to do anything you want, who wouldn’t take advantage of that?

Methodically Castiel smeared a thin layer of butter onto six graham wafers then poured himself a glass of milk. With only the light from the hood fan above the stove, the kitchen was dimly lit as he sat at the small kitchen table to eat. He knew that it was too early to be up, but there would be no way he’d be able to sleep for a couple hours before he’d have to get up at seven for work. He’d be a zombie if he did that. The thought of having to get up for _work_ made him laugh a little. It wasn’t like he was a doctor, lawyer or even a labourer and had set hours. He was a writer and other than having to meet deadlines and either actual meetings with the publishing house, his agent Crowley Ferguson, or book signings and special appearances, he was pretty much free to do whatever he desired with the hours of the day. He liked it that way and he was grateful to live the life he was able to.

However, there was that guilt again. It was all because of Dean, this green-eyed man, that he was even successful. In high school Castiel had begun writing stories about him. Feeling odd about the sometimes intimate moments he had within his dreams, he portrayed himself as a woman in the book at first. It was only when his agent found out that it was originally about a same sex couple that he took his advice and changed it back. But no good writer truly writes about themselves, let alone uses their own likeness and name—so Castiel named himself Cayden in the books that eventually became published. Even though no one knew that it was based loosely off of his dreams, he never did use Dean’s name. Castiel was the only one who knew that and he wanted to keep it that way. So Dean became David.

Castiel’s bestselling books could be found under the pen name of C.J. Novak and the ever growing supernatural-drama-love story series fell under the title of _Sleepwalkers_ with each book having a subtitle below. Not only did Castiel draw from his dreams, he pulled from his life as well. His family was Wiccan and practiced magicks. Castiel never shared that information with anyone. Well, to be honest, _he_ wasn’t even sure that what he remembered was even true. Castiel had asked Michael, Luke, Gabriel, even Anna—although she is only two years older than him—many times over. But they would never talk about it and Anna told him that she didn’t remember much before their father left. Michael, many times over the years, told him that it was just Castiel’s hazy, weird and psychedelic dreams, where he gets his imagination to write, making him think that it was memories where it’s clearly not. Castiel knew that it wasn’t just his _weird dreams_ —those very brief memories have a different feel to them.

When their father left them, Castiel was only two. There was no warning or even a letter with some sort of explanation as to why. His eldest brother Michael was too young, just shy of two years too young, to take over the household and raise him and his siblings so they unfortunately landed in foster care. They ended up in a Catholic household. The couple adored the fact that three of the children had angelic names but adored nothing else about them. Castiel was the only other Novak besides Gabriel with a recognizable angelic name (because most people never thought about that with Michael’s name), and Gabriel was the only one who was often called by a nickname—Gabe. It didn’t bother Castiel that he was never given a nickname. He liked his name and found that it suited him.

After rinsing the glass and placing it in the sink, Castiel padded his way into the living room. He eyed up his lap top, but he couldn’t get himself to jot down what he had dreamt about. He didn’t want to accept it, so he was going to avoid it. Instead, he lay down. Grabbing the knit blanket that always rests on the back of the couch he wrapped himself up and turned on the TV to watch old re-runs and infomercials. Castiel watched, but didn’t pay attention. His mind floated with thoughts of Dean and hoped that he would drift off and be able to dream that his nightmare wasn’t real. That his mind wasn’t trying to break him of his coveted desire. Soon enough Castiel had some answers.


	3. Chapter 2

[ ](http://imgur.com/fn9nvsB)

(Lawrence Kansas—July 5, 2014)

The house was too quiet for his liking and he was left alone with his acidic, self-loathing thoughts. Dean grabbed the tumbler filled with his poison of choice. The amber liquid burned Dean’s throat then warmed his belly, but not his soul. He pushed the glass away from him to rest beside the now half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. His cell phone suddenly began to buzz and dance intermittently on the kitchen table. He saw that it was Sam calling and a grunt of displeasure escaped his throat. Dean’s been ignoring his brother’s calls and texts for three days now. He knew that if he let it continue that Sam would just end up on his doorstep—wanting to talk about his feelings. He had just seen his brother three days earlier, albeit for the funeral for his wife and daughter and they may not have talked much, but he did see him. _Sam should know I just want to be left the fuck alone!_ he lamented to himself silently.

Begrudgingly, he picked up the phone in a large, sweeping action. He thought if he let it ring just a couple more times that he’d “miss” the call. With a sigh, Dean swiped a finger across the screen to answer.

“What?” he answered unceremoniously and a bit too harsh.

“Well hello to you too,” Sam replied. Dean could hear the sympathy in his voice and it grated at him already.

“What do you want, Sam. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re _not_ fine,” Sam let his words fall away.

Dean closed his eyes. His broad hand spanned across his forehead as he pressed his fingers and thumb into his temples, rubbing. He knows his brother is just worried. They have always been each other’s anchor, or probably more accurately Achilles heel,in life. Hell, Dean had pretty much raised his brother since he was six months old after their mother died. The electrical fire that started in little Sammy’s bedroom was what started the chain of events that would forever change them and spoil their chance at a normal, loving nuclear family.

Even though he was only four when it happened, Dean remembers playing with his baby brother in the living room; their father asleep in the lounge chair and their mother napping in the master bedroom. Because of a faulty smoke detector on the second floor, they lost their mother. Even though deep down Dean knows it’s not his fault, still carries blame and guilt over the fact that he didn’t realize that a fire was blazing upstairs. By the time the detectors downstairs registered the smoke, it was too late for Mary. Startled awake, John instantly realized that it wasn’t a false alarm and hollered instructions for Dean to take his brother outside. Without a thought, Dean picked up Sammy in an instant and ran out to the front yard. To this day he’s haunted with the memory of seeing his childhood home up in flames and smoke, consuming his mother. When something exploded on the second floor, sending shards of glass down onto the lawn, Dean was sure he wouldn’t see his either of his parents again. He was half right. A few moments later John ran out of the house, choking and coughing from the smoke. Even though he wasn’t in the building for long, the thick black smoke was hellish enough to leave his father’s skin tainted black with soot.

His hold on reality became thin once the drinking to drown his grief seemed to consume him and John became convinced that demons were to blame for Mary’s death. That was when he began practicing dark magicks to try and find this invisible, unseen evil and vanquish it. That was when he, his father and baby Sammy took to the road and all ties from anything normal had been severed.

In that moment of memory, a shudder ran through Dean. He now realized what the ultimate fear that his brother had for him.

“I’m not gonna to turn into dad, Sam,” Dean blurted out. He could hear Sam on the other end suck in air from the surprise of his words.

“Uh...okay Dean. But... tell me, what are you doing right now? Honestly, do tell.” Sam’s concern was still there, yet tainted with a bit of sass to drive the point home.

Dean sighed, “Fine, yes, I’m drinking—I’m _drunk_! So what? I just fucking lost my wife and child, Sammy! Can’t I have time to grieve?”

There was a long pause on the other end then Sam finally spoke. “I know you just had the funeral and all, but would you like me to come over and together we can do a Wiccan ceremony... for us, to say goodbye? You know...like Dad taught us? I always found that ceremony more meaningful than the one a funeral home offers.” Dean could hear his brother trying his best to word it carefully. He was surprised, for as he listened to Sam’s suggestion, he didn’t lose his temper. The idea of it actually _did_ seem to appeal to him. He remembered the ceremonies they had in the past for friends, who were more like family to them, and yes, it was still sorrowful but the ritual itself seemed so much more releasing than the stifling one he had to sit through for his family.

Before he realized, he was saying, “Yeah, sure Sam. I’d really like that.”

“I’ll be at your place tomorrow morning with all the stuff we need for the ceremony. Sound good?” Dean could practically hear the relief in his brother’s voice and visualize the small smile on his face.

“Yeah, that’s good. And, you know... thanks Sammy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow—and try not to kill your liver in the mean time, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. See you soon.”

[ ](http://imgur.com/QUEkoNs)

Sam was true to his word and he arrived the next morning at 10:30am with a duffle bag filled with white candles, cone incense of Frankincense, Myrrh and Dragon’s Blood, and a small brass bowl. Dean could see there was other stuff in the bag also, but Sam only took out what they needed.

Dean was lucky; even though he lived in suburbia, his yard was surrounded by older trees and flowering shrubs, a few flower gardens and a small patch for vegetables and herbs. When they went to the backyard, they were sure to have privacy when they performed the ritual.

It had been _many_ years since either of them had even cast a spell, and even longer since either of them actually believed that the Winchester family was even powerful. When they were kids, John used to tell them stories of how strong the Winchester family line was, how his father Henry could cast a spell without even needing elements such as incense, candles and an altar, etcetera, that he could affect his surrounds and even toss someone around with just a thought and a flick of a wrist. As kids, both Sam and Dean lapped up the stories like they were real, but as their father descended into his alcoholism and madness and the boys grew up, neither of them took to heart any longer the stories that John told them.

Dean was both nervous and fighting back the urge to weep the second he saw his brother and even more so when Sam embraced him.

“How you holdin’ up?” asked Sam.

“Peachy...” Dean’s voice waivered.

“This’ll help, Dean. I know it will.”

Dean nodded and showed his brother to the back yard. He let Sam take the reins on this. Dean didn’t know if he’d be able to remember exactly what to do. He always saw Sam as the smart one, since he is the Lawyer in the family and Dean is only a mechanic—an amazing one, but still, only a mechanic with a GED. He was proud, though, that he was the owner of Winchester Auto Body & Repair. Bobby Singer, who was like a surrogate father to them, took Dean under his wing when he started showing signs of interest in how vehicles worked. John had dropped them off many times for long periods of time, at Bobby’s place in Sioux Falls. He owns Singer Salvage, so there was no lack of vehicles for Dean to tinker on and hone his skills with Bobby by his side. Those were some of Dean’s most valued memories, despite the fact that he and his brother were just dropped off like they didn’t mean anything to their father.

Pulled from his reverie, Dean watched as Sam placed a stubby white candle onto the grass, wiggling it around to make sure that it wouldn’t tip. Once satisfied with its placement, he dug in the canvas bag again, this time pulling out a brass bowl and set it to the right of the candle. He then put in three pieces of incense. Dean recognised what it was from its scents: Frankincense, Myrrh and Dragon’s Blood. He knew that Sam had chosen the Frankincense to dispel negativity, enhance spirituality, protect against evil, to evoke courage, and for added protection. Myrrh was to strengthen the properties of the Frankincense, as Myrrh evoked many of the same energies. The two are usually burned together in many various spells and blessings. Now, the Dragon’s Blood, Dean found that to be an interesting choice. Dragon’s Blood is used to dispel negativity, exorcise evil supernatural entities, attract love, and restore male potency. Many witches also burn dragon's blood for protection when spell casting and invoking. When added to other incenses, dragon's blood makes their magickal powers all the stronger.

His brow furrowed as he watched Sam work. Although he found his last choice of incense _interesting_ , he didn’t question Sam. Even if Dean _did_ want to raise his thoughts, it was too late; Sam was already done. The candle had been lit and thin wriggling streams of pale smoke rose from the lit incense, and to Dean’s surprise a small picture of Lydia and Emma leaned against the brass bowl. He hadn’t even seen Sam place the photo there. To see them, even though it was only a picture, broke his heart even further. That was one of the first things Dean had done after the passing of his family: he had taken all photos of them down and put them into a box. It hurt too much too look at their images. If he couldn’t see them in real life, he didn’t want to see them at all—in any shape or form.

“Okay, Dean... Stand on that side of the candle and bowl. I’ll stand here.”

He nodded and did what he was instructed even though he had to suffer through looking at the picture still. Sam then raised his hands and waited for his brother to join hands with him. Dean gave him a quick bitch-face about the girly-ness of it, but when Sam scowled at him he quickly let it go and with a sigh took his brother’s hands into his own.

“Here we go. Ready?”                               

“As I’ll ever be.”

Sam nodded and then began the incantation: “Great Goddess, be with us in this time of sorrow. Ease the pain of Dean’s heart and soothe his battered spirit. Bless his nights with restful sleep so he might cope with the long days ahead. Enfold him into your compassionate arms as he learns to live with his loss—our loss. Help Dean to move forward with his life and let the pain grow less as time passes. Bless him with your love and watch over him and the one we have lost. So mote it be.”

“So mote it be,” Dean repeated, closing the blessing. _Or is it more of a spell?_ Dean wondered. All of a sudden the leaves rustling in the trees, the sound of children playing in a nearby park and a random lawnmower going somewhere seemed to be surreal as he stood there. He looked down at the picture of Lydia and Emma and the tears that had been welling in his eyes fell. Sam knelt down and blew the candle out then tossed the still smoking incense into the nearby flower garden.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, touching Dean’s shoulder to wake him from his thoughts, his grief. He looked at his brother, his empathetic hazel eyes pleading with him to—well, Dean didn’t even really know.

“I’m fine Sam. Thank you for this.”

“Want me to make us some sandwiches? I can stay for a while longer. I don’t have any appointments; I’m still off for bereavement.”

“Sure, I could eat something,” Dean finally answered. He hadn’t been eating properly or regularly since the accident and the idea of a sandwich suddenly sounded fantastic. A grin spread across Sam’s face.

“’Kay, I’ll text Jess and tell her I’ll be here a while longer.”

Dean nodded and watched as Sam dumped the wet wax onto the lawn and made quick work of putting the stuff back in the bag. With purpose he headed into Dean’s house and he followed his brother.

Dean didn’t realize how much he needed his brother’s company until they were sitting at the kitchen table eating their sandwiches and drinking beer in comfortable silence. He wished it could have lasted longer, even for Sam to have stayed the night, just so Dean would have company. Dean was never good with being alone and this was the ultimate abandonment he’d suffered from.

Before he knew it Sam had to go back to his very pregnant wife, Jessica, and the sun was setting. Night time was never good for Dean. It seemed to enhance his pain and emotions that he wished would just fade and go away. Even though the Wiccan ceremony was nice and he did feel better, he was still suffering. Deep down, Dean realized, he was hoping that the ceremony—the spell, whatever that was—would have taken his heartache away, but it didn’t. So he decided it was time to self-medicate and switched from the beer back to his old friend Jack.

After hours of drinking and suffering his tormenting thoughts on repeat, he was struck with the notion: _I never want to go through anything like this—EVER! I never want to fall in love again!_ For a good few hours after that, the idea of never wanting to go through such loss again bounced around his head until he had an epiphany: _Why not do a spell to prevent falling in love? Wish for someone who doesn’t even exist! Then I’ll live out my life to hopefully be a bitter, single old man—like Bobby!_ It might have been a slightly boorish thought, but it was true and Dean was okay with that.

Giving his epiphany more thought, it dawned on him. He would set his dream love around the man he had dreamt of since he was a child, after the man who, for all intents and purpose stole his heart when they were young, the man who is named after an angel, Castiel. His dream lover and soul mate who had sapphire blue eyes; dark brown hair; was quirky yet strong; devoted, attentive and affectionate. There was no way that this person would ever even exist. Let alone the fact that Dean had never been in a serious same sex relationship, not counting the few flings he had with guys before he had met and settled down with Lydia. He figured why not aim high on the unusual, and not normally pursued, side? It was much more probable that Castiel was only a figment of his imagination. Isn’t that why he had dreamed of him since he was a child?

With a plan in mind he staggered around the kitchen and living room looking for specific items that he would need to cast Amas Veritas, in layman’s terms, a spell to summon one’s true love. Three quarters of an hour later, Dean pulled a red rose from one of the many different flower arrangements scattered throughout the living room from the funeral, a note pad, red inked pen as well as a silver sharpie, and a decorative glass bowl from the mantle above the fireplace. Placing all this on the kitchen table he sat there, staring at it. He knew that he should add the symbol for the angel of Thursday to up the ante but he didn’t know how he would find it.

“I guess I can try Googling it,” he uttered to himself. With a shrug of the shoulders he grabbed his phone and went onto the internet and started searching for the angelic symbol. Dean was surprised that the info was not too difficult to find. After differentiating between Enochain, which is what he needed, and other various glyphs Dean found the same symbol come up for the name Castiel. Feeling confident in this find he set the phone on the table, grabbed the silver sharpie and began to doodle the circular glyph with the Enochian lettering. It was a simple enough design, which Dean was grateful for; it wasn’t like he was an artist or anything. Between drawing and drinking his whiskey, he was ready to attempt casting the spell. The first spell he would have done in years—not including the one from this afternoon, which was more of a blessing than a spell and had been recited by Sam, not him.

It was now time to write down the attributes of his true love. Grabbing the red pen Dean began to scribble the list, his hand a cross between handwriting and printing.

* Sapphire eyes

* Dark brown hair

* He will sense my fear and pain, my joy and love a mile away

* His favourite food is peanut butter and grape jelly

* He is a man of few words, yet his words have deep meaning

* He has a penchant for wings and stars

* His favourite song is the same as mine

Once Dean felt like he was done, he put the pen down. His heart was racing. He could only relate the sensation he was feeling as being akin how he felt when he was about to go on a first date with someone he’d been crushing on. A quick laugh escaped him. Methodically, Dean moved on from his thought, and began plucking off a petal for each of his wishes and setting them aside. Placing the glass bowl in the center of the Enochian symbol, Dean placed his wish list on the bottom of the shallow bowl. After taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart and shaking hands, he started to recite the list. After each merit was declared out loud Dean grabbed a petal and placed it on the note.

When he was done, Dean grabbed the bowl with both hands and headed outside. The cool night breeze felt wonderful on his flushed skin as he stepped over the threshold onto the back deck. He hadn’t realized how feverish he had become until that moment. Dean wasn’t sure if it was just the stress of wanting the spell to work, because of the whiskey or if the spell was _actually_ working. Either way, he figured he had gone this far, he might as well finish it.

Leaning against the railing, he raised his hands, lifting the bowl toward the night sky to complete the spell. “Castiel, I am yours... you are mine... together we will be whole. So mote it be!”

The instant the last word left his mouth Dean’s body began to vibrate and tingle. His temperature rose and sweat started to bead on his forehead. The wind suddenly picked up and blew the rose petals off the plate. In a vortex of gentle wind—which was puzzling all on its own—it sucked them up into the night sky.

Up, up, up and up...

Dean’s mouth dropped in shock. Just as he was about to verbalize his surprise, nausea washed over him and white spots floated in his vision. Before he could steady himself, the last thing he registered was the sound of the glass bowl shattering as he fell hard onto the deck boards when he blacked out.


	4. Chapter 3

[ ](http://imgur.com/dzVJtib)

(Pontiac Illinois—July 6, 2014)

It had been nearly three weeks and Castiel was still plagued with the most gut-wrenching nightmares. Every night at around the same time he would wake up, on the verge of madness, ready to beg God or _whoever_ would listen to make it stop. Most nights the dreams weren’t really cohesive, even for a dream. At first the dreams consisted of his green-eyed soul mate just lying in a hospital bed unconscious. The repetitious _beep, beep, beep_ from the heart monitor was both irritating and soothing as it confirmed that Dean was still alive.

Castiel would stand over his bed, brush his sandy hair back off his forehead and whisper to Dean that he needn’t worry, that he _would_ get better soon. Castiel knew that he was more or less only trying to soothe himself by saying that. He didn’t want to lose him, even if Dean was just a figment of his imagination and desires. He was a part of him and to lose him would be like losing an appendage at this point. By this part of the dream the outer edges of his dreamscape became black and like ink dropped in water, the smoke-like and horrific darkness crept closer to them. Eventually the darkness enveloped Castiel and he felt like he was falling away from the scene before him. Everything would end when the darkness finally enveloped Dean, and Castiel would wake up sweating and shaking.

For weeks this was the hell Castiel had been going through. The lack of sleep and stress over trying to figure out what Castiel’s mind was trying to tell him was fraying his wellbeing. It not only affected his work (he hadn’t written for almost the whole time) it was starting to affect his relationship. Castiel was jumpy and moody. He wanted to be left alone and Balthazar only made things worse with his love and concern of all things. Castiel knew it was wrong of him to feel resentment toward his lover, but he only wished that he’d back off and give him space. It was almost like he needed to grieve and he wished to do so in peace.

It had been a bad night for them both. They had argued during the prep of dinner, during dinner and then while doing dishes. Castiel poured himself a healthy glass of spiced rum and coke then headed to the swinging bench on the front porch. He had to get out of the house, but he didn’t want to offend Balthazar any further by leaving altogether. It was Castiel’s issues that had created such a divide between them as of late and he knew it. But with that said, he didn’t want to deal with Balthazar’s issues, which had been created because of _his_ issues. It was all a mess.

The evening seemed to be quickly skating by and it was suddenly approaching eleven at night and he was dreading having to go to bed. Most nights he was staying up to the wee hours in the morning, until his eyes became too heavy to fight off sleep any longer, but only then did he give in.

The repetitive motion of the swing was soothing and the rum and coke, heavy on the rum, was warming his belly, starting to give him that happy numb feeling. Mind you, this wasn’t his first drink of the evening; he was onto his sixth by this time and he didn’t care. He knew he wouldn’t be able to produce any words the next day anyhow. His muse was dead—or at least lying in a coma, about to die. A sigh escaped his lips at that thought. Just as he gulped the last of his rum, the breeze picked up. Castiel closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air. He could smell rain in the breeze. It smelled so clean, fresh and pure. Castiel thought that maybe that’s what heaven smelled like and a small smile graced his lips.

Just as Castiel was about to get up and mix another drink, he paused in mid movement when something odd caught his eye. He blinked a few times to check his vision, but what he saw was not, in fact, a trick of the eye. On the breeze a stream of flower petals swirled in a line toward him. He tilted his head, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what he was seeing. They kept coming toward him until each red petal fell at his feet.

“Interesting...” he managed to utter after a brief moment of confusion. Castiel reached down and picked each one up. There were seven of them. The red petals he determined to be from a rose were velvety to the touch; so soft and pliable. Unconsciously he brought them up to his nose and took a gentle sniff. The familiar rose scent was soft and sweet. A warm smile graced Castiel’s features and a new warm sensation filled him. He rubbed the petals against his stubbly chin, then over his lips.

“How beautiful and amazing this odd gift is.” Castiel closed his eyes and his soul felt such a quiet ease it had never experienced before.

Castiel didn’t know how much time had passed, but when he woke from his reverie rain was falling softly and the breeze had picked up. The sky lit up with a quick flash of lightening followed by the rolling sound of thunder far off in the distance. Castiel grabbed his empty glass that had been sitting beside him on the bench and rose to his feet. Before heading into the house he pocketed each and every petal that fell at his feet. It may have been a silly gesture, but the fact that the mysterious petals made him feel such ease and comfort made him want to hold onto them for dear life. He suddenly didn’t have that urge to pour one more drink any longer. He actually _wanted_ to go to sleep. Something in him knew that it would be all right if he did; that he wouldn’t suffer the nightmares any more. And his instincts were right. But as right as they were, he was then surprised to find that he didn’t dream about Dean at all. Whether it was a curse or a blessing, Castiel wasn’t really sure.

[ ](http://imgur.com/JOC5HM9)

(August 8, 2014)

 

After receiving such a wonderful gift from the universe, he thought it cruel that his mind would then shatter his moment of peace by robbing him of his dreams of Dean, ever since the night the rose petals fell at his feet. It had been damn near a month that Castiel had to live without Dean in his dreams. At first, sure, it was nice not to dream of his green-eyed love immobile and seemingly dying, but to not see him _at all_ was more painful than Castiel would have ever thought. The stress of this struck him harder than he would have liked to admit. It started to effect his relationship with Balthazar even more, to the point his boyfriend couldn’t handle Castiel’s mood swings and uncalled anger toward him.

It was two weeks with no dreams when Balthazar told Castiel that they needed to take a break and he moved in with their friend, Hannah. At first they kept in touch with texting, but then the number of texts lessened to where they became almost non-existent.

Castiel did his best to work through his confusing emotions with Balthazar moving out. It did sadden him. He enjoyed his company and solidarity, but ultimately he felt guilt—guilt that he didn’t miss him entirely all that much, guilt over the fact that he had hurt him. Castiel didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone someone who had been so kind, loving and patient with him over the years.

Every night, after attempting to write more then only one thousand words, which took painfully pretty much the whole day, he’d go and sit on the swing. Castiel didn’t know what he was hoping would happen, but that had become his routine. Wake at 8am (which used to be 7am but with staying up later, he found he couldn’t get out of bed before 8 am now); make coffee and have a simple breakfast of toast with peanut butter and grape jelly; then he’d fire up the lap top only to stare at his work in progress before he went and sidetracked himself with checking his email and facebook. He had taken notes down of the first horrific dream he had about Dean and his accident but didn’t really want to incorporate that into the storyline he was currently working on. Hell, he didn’t want to put that into _any_ storyline.

It had been a long day. Castiel had actually written a fair amount of words, nearly four thousand, on his latest book, _Sleepwalkers: Battle in Heaven & Hell_. His brain was feeling somewhat mushy when he finally decided to stop for the day. It was nearing five at night and he figured he’d start making dinner. It was strange to be only making meals for one again. It had been so long since he’d done that. He’d poured himself his usual, a spiced rum and coke, and put some music on to kill the silence, then began the task of chopping onions, carrots, potatoes, celery and cabbage for the stew.

The music was mellow yet upbeat. Castiel enjoyed the music from the 1940’s, swing music in particular. It was just one of the things Balthazar liked to tease him about, that he was “an old fart at heart.” Castiel smiled, remembering the jibe.

Before he knew it, he was done with his dinner and cleaning up. Once the chores were done, he headed out to the porch swing. With him he had a freshly filled glass of rum and the small silky sachet that he found to put the rose petals into. Castiel pretty much carried the rose petals around with him everywhere he went. They gave him such a sense of comfort that he couldn’t get himself to part with them.

He could hear the gentle sound of the music seeping through the open window as he swung, repetitively. It was another beautiful night. Clear skies, so he could see the stars starting to appear and the horizon to the west boasted the most beautiful peach and gold sunset. He loved living just outside the city limits of Pontiac. Country living was by far the best in his opinion, and for the most part, gave Castiel no distractions for writing.

The early evening was just like every other. There was nothing special about it. Castiel was feeling a bit buzzed and happy from the spiced rum so when the sensation first hit him, he didn’t register it right away. Eventually the odd vibrating sensation became evident and then too much to ignore. He put the glass on the bench beside him and stopped swinging. Thinking that was cause of the problem was quickly dismissed when the sensation grew and grew, to very uncomfortable levels. His ears all of a sudden began to ring, and instinctually he raised his hands and stuck his fingers in his ears, but it didn’t alleviate it at all. Then his head was filled with what sounded like hundreds of voices, all speaking an unknown language. Fumbling to stand up, his body started to feel like it was on fire yet freezing at the same time and a shot of what felt like electricity zoomed through him, causing him to become rigid. Castiel was filled with fear, yet he couldn’t move, couldn’t even cry out.

Without warning, his body went limp and he fell onto the wooden deck. For one fleeting second he thought, _thank God, it’s over_. But that’s when the vision hit him. Flashes of a round table entered his mind. It had an odd symbol drawn on it and two small pools of blood were on the inside bottom of the circular sigil. He then saw flashes of a Craftsman styled house, its front door painted cranberry and the number that had been screwed into the wall beside it: 1384. Castiel was then bombarded with the faces of his siblings and hundreds of unknown people, all of them with varying different coloured and shaped wings. Suddenly a bright pulsing white light seemed to emanate from Castiel’s chest and a painful yet oddly familiar sensation washed over him as the bright light suddenly exploded from him and then dissolved into blackness...


	5. Chapter 4

[ ](http://imgur.com/OIxLepQ)

(Lawrence Kansas—August 9, 2014)

“It was an accident,” Dean said for the millionth time. “I just... I was... Look, I had too much to drink and I couldn’t sleep so I took something to help and well... It was an _accident_. Can we stop talking about it?!” He was in the hospital and he was not happy to find out that he was in the psychiatric ward for an attempted suicide.

The doctor leaned into Dean’s space and said, “Mr. Winchester, I will allow you to rest for now, but we have to get to the root of why you wanted to take your life.” The doctor was older, balding, with silver hair. His white coat covered his drab beige suit. Dean couldn’t see how this man was able to help people, mentally anyhow, with the look of smugness and contempt that seemed to always grace his features.

At the doctor’s remark Dean gave him his best, _fuck off_ face. He knew it was effective because the Doctor backed away from him.

“Sam is here to see you. Do you wish to see him?” Dean was surprised the doctor even asked.

“Of course I want to see my brother,” he paused then added under his breath, “douche.”

The older man looked down at Dean with a slight scowl on his face. “Fine, I will tell him he can come in. Visiting hours are until 8:30, so he can come and go for a while yet if he wishes. I will see you tomorrow morning Dean.”

“I’ll be counting the hours,” he retorted and watched the doctor leave.

As he was readjusting the hospital blankets, Sam walked in. His shoulders were slumped, which still didn’t hide how tall the guy was, and his long shaggy chestnut hair fell into his eyes. Dean loved to bug Sam about his hair being long and that he should audition for shampoo commercials. At that thought his lips curled into a crooked grin, but it quickly washed away when his brother’s puppy dog, sorrow-filled hazel eyes met his.

Dean let a long sigh escape him. “Come on Sam don’t look at me like that. It was an _accident_! Why won’t anyone believe me?” he said, exasperated.

“What happened, Dean? What _really_ happened? I knew you were a bit on edge when I’d seen you earlier yesterday, but what triggered you to do such a thing?” Sam asked while walking over to the bed then sat at the foot of it, his eyes imploring, searching Dean’s for any sign of answer and truth.

“I just made a mistake is all. I shouldn’t have mixed Jack with sleeping pills. It did something wonky to me, okay. I didn’t do it on purpose. I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I swear.”

“Well, how can pills and Jack make you slice your arm up?”

Dean scrapped a hand over his scruffy chin. “You want to know? _Really_ want to know?”

“Yes, Dean. I really, _really_ do! Because you have no idea what it was like for me to find you passed out at the kitchen table, your arm all cut up and blood everywhere! I think I deserve an explanation!” Dean could see Sam tried his best to control his anger, but it was clear.

“There wasn’t _that_ much blood,” Dean quipped. But the moment he said it, he wished he hadn’t. It didn’t matter how much blood there was, it was his and Sam had to witness that. He sighed. He was having difficulty getting the words out, but eventually said, “Something told me that if I bled, he’d come.”

The look of slight horror and confusion darkened Sam’s expression. “What? Who’d come? You’re hearing voices now, Dean?” He was exasperated and Dean felt a flood of guilt. Sam should be at home with Jess and painting the baby’s room or something. Not by his older brother’s side after Dean had sliced up his left wrist.

“I dunno Sam... Not really a voice, more of an inner instinct?”

After a brief moment Sam asked his next question. “So _who_ do you want to come to you?”

Dean bowed his head. This part he knew would sound even _more_ nuts. Maybe it was a good thing he was in a psychiatric ward after all. Maybe he _was_ one fry short of a happy meal.

“Dean...” Sam pushed after he kept silent for too long.

“Castiel,” he finally said.

“Castiel?! Who’s Castiel?” Sam gave him a questioning look.

“My soul mate?”

“Dean, you’re making no sense!”

He sat in silence, trying to avoid making eye contact with his brother. But the instant he made the mistake of glancing up, Sam locked his worried gaze on him. It was then that Dean started rambling on about his dreams and Castiel, and about the spell he had done after Sam had left.

“So you see... I wasn’t trying to kill myself. It was an accident. I was just a bit too hopped up, that’s all.”

There was a long pause before Sam said anything. “You don’t really think this Castiel is real, do you?”

Dean looked up at Sam. He wanted to look strong but the instant the words left his mouth he knew his expression was pained. “No, Sam, I don’t think Castiel is real—I just wish he were.”

[ ](http://imgur.com/QUEkoNs)

It was awkward after Dean confessed everything to Sam, but at the same time Dean was grateful that Sam didn’t run out on him and just leave him alone. Sam stayed until visiting hours were over and he vowed to bring Jess to see him the next day.

Dean didn’t know what they were pumping into him, but he was feeling pretty mellow. His irritation had been replaced with a hazy indifferent kind of feeling and he kind of enjoyed it. He didn’t know what time it was, but the sun had set not long before. He had to stay for observation and was basically forced to stay in the hospital. The drugs helped keep his mind off the last time he lay in a hospital bed. They made him numb and he liked feeling numb.

He was beginning to doze off as he listened to the odd nurse chatting with a neighbouring patient or to another nurse about their patients, families or to complain about their shift. The background noise was actually comforting and he looked forward to sleeping. M _aybe I’ll see Castiel in my drug induced dreams,_ Dean thought. _That’d be nice._

Just as he was about to lose consciousness, a bright white flash of light startled Dean fully wake. The room was small so it didn’t take long for Dean to find out what the new addition to the space was. Standing by the window he saw a man with short dark hair and the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. He wore a green t-shirt, burgundy zippered hoodie and a pair of green khaki cargo pants. Dean sat up to examine the man more closely. His stomach did a flop as his heart went straight to his throat, making it harder for him to get the single word out. “Castiel?”

The dark haired man tilted his head, narrowed his eyes and looked at him, confused, yet with such affection. “Dean?”

“I must be dreaming... Damn, these are good drugs!” Dean muttered, not wanting to believe that what he was seeing was real. It was insane to think otherwise. Wasn’t it? He blinked repeatedly then rubbed at his eyes, but Castiel still stood there. He looked at him with such questioning pain that it broke Dean’s heart. Part of Dean knew that he was not dreaming because Castiel looked so much more... beautiful... _in real life_? “Fuck, I’m losing my ever-lovin’ mind,” he said and tossed the blanket over his head, wanting, needing to hide himself from his new side effect of his crazy—delusions of Castiel.

“Dean...” His voice was low and gravely, just like in his dreams.

“Go away, you’re only in my head! Leave me alone!” The moment the words left his lips, he grimaced. Dean didn’t want that, _at all_. Just as he was about to push away the hospital blankets, the sound of fluttering filled the room and a gentle breeze pushed at the blankets. When Dean finally managed to clear his vision of the blankets, his heart seemed to stop. No one was there. It was a dream—well at least a waking, drug-induced dream. Castiel was never there. The thought made his heart ache like nothing before, even more than it had for his wife and daughter. That awareness filled him will new guilt and tears fell silently. He slid down the bed and covered his face to hide himself from the world.


	6. Chapter 5

[ ](http://imgur.com/Oa2Jvs7)

Castiel’s body ached as though he had just run a marathon, yet somehow he felt so strong. He felt united with... well, he didn’t really know who it was he felt united with, but also an intense sensation of being forsaken. What he thought he was experiencing at first was an extremely lucid dream after blacking out on his front porch. He had seen Dean. He hadn’t seen him in weeks and then suddenly, he was by his side, in the hospital, but Dean was awake this time. He had said his name! It filled Castiel with so many confusing and conflicting emotions that he didn’t know what to do. And when Dean told him to leave, his heart shattered.

“I don’t understand; why would he say such things to me?” He asked himself. Stuck in his heartache, Castiel didn’t realize at first that he wasn’t even at his home, on the front porch. When Castiel finally become conscious of the fact that he was inside and in a kitchen he didn’t recognize, he started to panic. He frantically took in his surroundings. He couldn’t identify it at first, but then he had a flash of memory—this was the kitchen he saw before he blacked out. “Why am I here? How’d I get here?” He kept asking rhetorical questions that no one could answer, even if there had been someone in the room with him.

Castiel only had to take a few steps to look at the sigil that had been drawn on the kitchen table. He instinctually reached out to graze his fingertips over the drawing. The instant he touched it he _knew_. This was a sigil for his name, for _him_. He looked at the two small pools of blood and knew that it was Dean’s. It was because of Dean—who _was_ real—that they had been brought together. Castiel just didn’t understand why or how it was even possible.

Walking away from the table, he started to wander through the bungalow to find any clues he could about this man. What he found was both exhilarating and heartbreaking at the same time. At first Castiel thought Dean lived alone, until he walked past a little girl’s room. It was painted cotton candy pink and purple and there were stuffed unicorns and teddy bears and dolls and even a few Dinkie cars all around the room. Castiel smiled when he thought he spotted a small black car that looked like Dean’s ’67 Chevy Impala. Castiel wasn’t sure if the real Dean actually had one, or only coveted one. When he found the master bedroom there was clear evidence of a woman—his wife. Dean was a family man. _Even if I wanted to be with him, I can’t_ , he thought to himself. It felt as though a knife was being twisted into his heart.

Castiel made his way back to the kitchen through the living room. Taking note of all the dead and mummified flowers, way too many vases in one room to be normal, he walked over to one of them and read the note: _We are so sorry for your loss, our condolences ~ The Wesson’s_. In that moment Castiel realized why he had thought Dean lived alone until he saw the bedrooms. There were no photos of Dean’s family, other than a few pictures of Dean with a very tall and handsome man who he had figured was a brother. Dean had hidden all the pictures of his wife and child. A new pain for Dean washed through him; he knew something must have happened to them. Castiel closed his eyes and wished he could take Dean’s sorrow away. He wished he could be by his side to console him. Castiel saw him in his mind’s eye lying on that hospital bed, left wrist bandaged up, dark circles under his eyes. He even registered the faint scent of alcohol still oozing from his pores. The pull to be with Dean was so strong.

All of a sudden Castiel’s body felt light and the soft sound of fluttering wings filled his ears. The sensation of flying overwhelmed him in a euphoric way, and when the sensation stopped and he opened his eyes to see Dean, his soul felt complete. Castiel didn’t know how much time had passed since he had last seen Dean, but now all the hospital rooms were dark and only the bare minimum requirement for lights were still on.

He walked over to a sleeping Dean, his features soft in slumber. He looked peaceful. No harsh lines of sorrow or guilt or any of the things that the hardships of his life had brought upon him. Castiel couldn’t believe he was with Dean once again. Not wanting to disturb his rest, he pulled up a chair and sat beside him. Dean was on his back, his face turned to the left, facing Castiel. He looked at Dean’s bandaged arm and wondered what he had done. He didn’t get the sense Dean had wanted to commit suicide. Unconsciously, Castiel reached out and gently touched the bandaged part of his arm. The need to touch him, his bare skin, became too much to ignore and his fingers slid up to touch the soft flesh of his inner arm between his elbow and the bandage.

“ _I so wish to talk with you, Dean. But I don’t want to wake you_ ,” he said to himself. At that moment the most intriguing idea came to mind. “ _What if I fell asleep by your side, would I be able to sleepwalk in your dreams like I write about?”_ A warm smile crossed Castiel’s face. It was worth a try. The only downside that Castiel could think of was that if he did fall asleep and nothing happened, he’d startle Dean with his presence when he woke. However, Castiel felt he _had_ to try.

Still with his fingers resting on Dean’s forearm, Castiel leaned forward to rest his head on his arm, tilting his head so that he was facing Dean. He squirmed a little bit to find a comfortable position and then closed his eyes and hoped for the best. And what he experienced was nothing like he could have ever imagined.

[ ](http://imgur.com/JOC5HM9)

_Castiel woke in his bed. A beam of sunshine landed on the armoire. He knew he was dreaming because everything seemed a bit dim despite the bright sunshine coming through the open window. Pushing the duvet back, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge. He was alone, or so he thought. The soft sound of the shower didn’t register until it was shut off. His heart was in his throat. He wondered who was in there. Was it just Balthazar or was it... Dean? Castiel hoped and prayed that it was Dean._

_It seemed to take forever before the door opened to reveal who it was. A long breath of relief was exhaled when it was Dean who emerged. His wet hair was disheveled and his chest was bare, showing off his fit physique. His undone, faded blue jeans hung from his hips, his black underwear visible. His broad muscular shoulders glistened with droplets of water; he hadn’t dried himself off enough, but Castiel wouldn’t complain._

_“Hey,” Dean said with a broad smile._

_“Dean...”_

_“It’s been a while, hey. I’ve missed you. I’m going to be selfish here and say that I don’t think you should go traveling ‘round the world selling our love story to millions and leave me alone.”Dean’s wink did things to Castiel. His mind raced. He didn’t know what to say. Castiel realized that he had in fact hopped into Dean’s dream. But he was confused as to why they were in “his” house. Before this, they had always been in unknown places created by his mind._

_“You’re not alone. You have Sam,” Castiel said, like a reflex familial answer. “How’d you get here?” he added. He found himself struggling between the dream and knowing that it was a dream. It was the oddest sensation and pull of thoughts and feelings he’d ever experienced. He knew things, yet he did not._

_Dean looked at him, narrowing his eyebrows in thought. “I don’t know... it’s nice here though. It’s your place?”_

_“Dean...”_

_“Yeah Cas,” he said, his voice seductive, and walked toward him. “You know I love it when you say my name.”_

_“Dean, we need to talk.”_

_“Do we? I’ve missed you... can’t we talk later? I sorta had other things in mind.” Dean was now in Castiel’s personal space, looking down at him with those moss-green eyes. Castiel tried to sit up, but Dean quickly placed a hand on each of his t-shirt clad shoulders. Castiel had one brief irritated thought of: ‘why the hell did I put myself into clothes!’ but then quickly shook the thought away. He had to tell him that he was real. However, Dean had other things in mind, as he said, and before Castiel could say another word, Dean leaned toward him, grazed his full lips against Castiel’s. Dean’s warm breath caused Castiel to forget how to speak and a soft moan escaped his lips. He wanted this so bad. He wanted Dean. But now that he knew, he wanted the_ real _Dean!_

 _At first the kiss was chaste, but it soon became heated. Dean pressed his soft lips against Castiel’s and darted his tongue into Castiel’s mouth. Dean pressed his body closer to Castiel, placing himself between his spread legs. His mind swam in the delight of Dean’s kiss, his touch, but he had to break himself free of his want and tell Dean that_ they were real _! Castiel reached up and placed a hand on Dean’s firm shoulders and pushed him back gently._

_“What, you don’t want me? I’ve been dreaming about you, you know.” Dean’s sudden laughter struck him as odd, but he realized that he was giving Dean a pained look. “Cas, I’m only kidding... Well, sort of. What’s wrong with you?”_

_“We are real, Dean!” Castiel blurted out. Dean’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Castiel questioningly. “I want you to wake up. I want you to really feel me, know me, to be with me. I can’t lose you now that I know that you are real. Wake up and find me by your side. I will always be by your side, Dean. I want to pull you out of your personal hell and give you peace. And by allowing me that, you will also set me free.” By the end of his speech, Castiel had tears welling in his eyes._

_After a long moment of silence Dean finally spoke. “Is that why I’m in your... house? He looked about the room, taking everything in. “Are you making me see this?”_

_“I guess I am. I don’t fully understand it myself. I just know that you summoned me, I came, and now I am here by your side. Wake up and you will know that to be true,” Castiel said, his voice gravellier than usual from his worry and stress._

_Dean suddenly looked away as though his thought was embarrassing, but after a brief moment he did voice it, though he was still looking absentmindedly out the window, unable to make eye contact with Castiel. “What if this is a trick? What if my brain is just tormenting me further by promising me you and when I wake you aren’t there? I don’t think I could handle that, Cas. I need you. I want you to be real. I need you to be real.” Dean’s voice was small yet deep in his confession._

_“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t understand what’s going on, either. I don’t know why we are... attached, attracted, whatever it may be... to each other, I just know that this is_ real _. Something happened to me when you summoned me. I need you too, Dean. I think there is so much more for us and at this moment neither of us can comprehend it all. We are two pieces of a puzzle that I desire to put together, so please, wake up.”_

_Dean locked his green eyes with Castiel’s and a zoom of electrical excitement passed through him when Dean leaned down to kiss him. His lips opened to allow Dean’s exploring tongue. The kiss was soft, full of love and admiration but the moment Castiel lifted his hands to rest on Dean’s hips, kneading them, the heat and desire rose ten-fold. Dean reached for the hem of Castiel’s worn t-shirt and started to work it up, letting his fingers touch and explore the warm, soft flesh of Castiel’s toned stomach, over his ribs, up his back and back down again, reaching past the waistband of his jogging pants. A deep moan escaped him and Dean’s mouth absorbed it greedily. Suddenly, Dean leaned away from the kiss, his lips still hovering over Castiel’s, and he whispered, “The only way I know how to wake myself up from a dream is to have a really good dream. I always, unfortunately, wake up just as the good stuff is about to start.”_

_“Mmmm, isn’t that the sad truth,” Castiel agreed, pulling him closer. Their lips locked once again, all wet and exploring, tongues and teeth; hands stroking and petting each other. “I want to do more of this, Dean, for the rest of our lives,” he added, breathless from the kissing and roaming hands._

_“Me too, Cas... Me too.” Dean smiled down at him lovingly. Castiel could see his thought pattern shift in his eyes and his smile became a smirk. “Shall we see if we can get me... us... whatever... to wake up? Hmmm?” he added suggestively._

_Castiel nodded, smiling mischievously back at him, reaching to grab the bottom of Dean’s t-shirt and pulling it over his head. Dean eyed the cluster of navy-styled star tattoos on Castiel’s shoulder and traced his fingers over each one—five altogether. The largest star curled around his shoulder and the others were various diminishing sizes that surrounded it. It was simple, and that simplicity appealed to him. It made Dean ponder the idea of getting a tattoo himself; maybe he could get something that would show how he was Castiel’s._

_With the sudden intensity in Dean’s eyes, Castiel couldn’t help but bask in the attention. He wanted to be able to feel as much of Dean as he could—even if it were only a dream. Dean made easy work of his already undone and slouching jeans and in seconds he was tossing them off to the side. Castiel could see that Dean was already aroused and instinctually reached out to cup Dean’s hardening cock. Dean moaned and pushed his hips into Castiel’s warm hand._

_After letting Castiel massage his cock for a brief moment, Dean pushed Castiel’s shoulders to get him to sit further back on the bed. Castiel released his hold on Dean and complied readily. Dean then climbed on top of Castiel to sit in his lap. Castiel loathed clothes at that moment. Dean started to grind his hips so that their hard-ons rubbed delightfully. Castiel reached for Dean’s hips again, this time forcing Dean to grind on him harder. Still managing to rotate his hips, Dean leaned forward, nuzzling his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck. He licked, nipped and sucked on Castiel like he was a lollipop and Castiel moaned the most indecent sounds of ecstasy that drove Dean mad._

_Before Dean knew it, Castiel grabbed firmly onto his biceps and forcefully directed Dean off of him to lie on the bed. He hovered over Dean, his lips claiming Dean’s before he slithered down Dean’s nearly naked body. Castiel kissed and licked his way down Dean’s neck to his chest before he started to flick his tongue over Dean’s hardening nipple, all the while caressing as much of Dean as he could. Continuing his way south, Castiel made his way down Dean’s firm abdomen, only to stop when he reached the waistband of Dean’s boxer briefs. He looked up at Dean who shuddered with desire and wanting. Castiel smirked, enjoying Dean’s reaction to him. Reaching for Dean’s waistband, he pulled his underwear down and freed his erect cock. Castiel breathed purposefully on Dean’s now seeping hard-on before he ghosted his lips over the tip of it, tasting the saltiness of Dean. A gasp escaped Dean’s lips and his hips rose at the sensation. Castiel did nothing to stop Dean’s automatic thrusts, but Dean quickly tried to control himself and threaded his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair._

_Castiel flicked his tongue over the head of Dean’s dick only to then lick down the underside, following the bulging vein down to his balls then back up to the tip. That’s when Castiel takes Dean’s swollen cock into his mouth and begins to suck and bob his head. A long groan came from Dean and Castiel’s dick twitched and strained against his constricting underwear, his own arousal becoming painful._

_“Ahhh... Cassss...” Dean hissed. Castiel sped up his motion as he felt Dean become harder and swell even more. Dean was panting and moaning and Castiel knew that he was getting close. That’s when it happened..._

[ ](http://imgur.com/JOC5HM9)

“Sir, _Sir_... how’d you get in here?!” Castiel was immediately pulled out of his dream by a nurse shaking his shoulder. Groggy, he sat up and looked at the woman, trying not to give her a look of frustration. He wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped. She had long dark hair, a round face and brown eyes that gave him the most pissed-off look that he’s ever received in his life in return. He quickly looked around the hospital room, glancing through the window to see that it was morning and the sun was well above the horizon.

“What?” Castiel finally said.

“How’d you get in here? And what the hell’s up with the duo moaning?” She asked again, her facial features and tone exposing her irritation.

He was about to give her a non-answer, for how could he explain that? _Oh,_ _I just appeared? I flew here?_ But then Dean woke. Castiel sat upright, his body rigid, and he realized he had a hard-on. He hoped the nurse wouldn’t notice, but casually placed his hand over his crotch anyhow.

“Dean...” his name left his mouth before Castiel could even think of something more eloquent to say. His heart raced. This was real. They were in a real room together!

Dean looked over at Castiel, an expression of pure confusion twisting his face. Castiel didn’t know whether to be offended and heartbroken that he didn’t realize that Castiel was real right away, or to be elated that he hadn’t yelled at him and demanded that he leave—again.

Dean’s eyes darted between the nurse and Castiel “Uh... he’s a... friend. It’s okay, isn’t it?” Dean looked at the nurse. Castiel could only describe his expression as pleading. He wanted Castiel to stay. That brief moment was very telling, and it felt like one of many weights had been lifted from Castiel’s shoulders.

“Visiting hours aren’t even for another hour and a half!” she complained, then turned her attention back to Castiel. “And how the hell did you get in here?” She asked again, this time her tone was incredibly demanding. Castiel knew he wouldn’t be able to get away without trying to give her some sort of answer.

“I uh... I never left?” He gave her his best pleading eyes that he could in hopes that she’d just understand that he needed to be by Dean’s side. “I guess I was in the bathroom when they called lights out and when I came out, his door had already been closed so I just sat down and stayed with him. I just slept.” He paused to read her name tag. “Nothing to worry about, Meg,” he added quickly, hoping to appeal to her by using her name. The nurse narrowed her eyes at him. He could see she didn’t believe his bullshit story, but for some reason, her features softened and she sighed.

“Fine, whatever; just don’t do that again! I don’t want to get my ass fired over your... _friendship_ ,” she retorted, putting a lot of innuendo on the word friendship. She then turned around and stormed out of the room, leaving them alone.

They were in fact strangers, yet somehow they weren’t. The two men stared at each other awkwardly for what felt like too long before Dean broke the silence.

“Hey... so... you...” he cleared his throat. Dean blushed as he remembered what he was dreaming about before being rudely awoken. “This is just too weird.”

“Yes. This is very out of the ordinary, I agree.” A small smile crept across Castiel’s lips. Needing to feel Dean, he gave into his drive and reached out to touch his hand. At first, his fingers just grazed Dean’s and then he placed his full hand over his. Castiel watched Dean’s eyes trail down to look at their now joined hands.

“I have waited a very long time to do this,” Castiel confesses softly. His voice is low and rumbles in his vulnerable state. Dean looks up at Castiel, his eyes wide with questioning.

“Your eyes... they’re so blue. Just like in my dream.” Dean pauses for a moment and then continues his thought although it’s barely audible, “Just like I wished for...”

Castiel tilts his head and narrows his eyes at Dean, “What do you mean wished for? Why would you wish for me to have blue eyes? I don’t understand,” he asked sincerely.

Dean shifted his weight and squirmed a bit on the bed. He was suddenly uncomfortable and Castiel was further puzzled. After a brief moment, Dean finally spoke. “Well... this is gonna sound crazy,” he paused for a fully belly laugh. “I guess I _am_ in a nut house, at least the nut ward of a hospital.” Dean sighed and scraped his hand over his rough chin. He looked Castiel in the eyes and made his confession, “I did a spell, a love spell so to speak, and I wished for a man with dark brown hair, sapphire eyes, a man who loves peanut butter and grape jelly—”

Before Dean could say anymore Castiel cut in as if he knew the list. “...Whose favourite song is Carry On Wayward Son...”

Dean’s eyes widen at Castiel’s words. He then finishes Castiel’s statement, “...A man of few words, yet his words have deep meaning.”

He left it there and didn’t recite the rest of his list. He didn’t have to. As he was speaking, Castiel pulled from his pants pocket the silk sachet, opened it and dropped the red petals onto his left palm. Dean gasped. Even though having Castiel stand before him made this all very real, seeing the petals just solidified that he had made his dreams come true.

“Oh my God, you _are_ real!” Dean uttered. Castiel only smiled and squeezed his hand. “But how? Why did I dream of you? I don’t get it!” He sounded bewildered.

“I don’t fully understand, myself, Dean. But now that we’re together, we will be able to find answers. Believe it or not, I have probably more questions than you do.”

Silence fell between the two men once again and the long awkward staring began. Again, it was Dean who spoke up and broke up the intense eye contact. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re more handsome in person than in my dreams.”

A soft chuckle escaped Castiel’s lips. “And I see you are just as charming in real life, maybe even more so than in _my_ dreams.” Castiel winked at him and he thought he saw Dean blush, which in turn made him smile warmly. Even though Dean was the one blushing, Castiel was quickly reminded of the more intimate moments they shared in dreams together. Castiel shifted in his chair, feeling suddenly warm and uncomfortable. They were both well aware that they were thinking about the same things and after a brief moment of blushing and shifty eyes, Dean began to ask Castiel what was true of the various things that they had learned of each other in their shared dreams.

The two men exchanged at first trivial information about each other and talked about what their daily life consisted of and their homes and vehicles. Castiel was surprisingly pleased to hear that Dean did in fact have a ’67 Chevy Impala, but not so much to learn that Dean’s accident was real; that this is how he lost his family and why his beloved car was currently wrecked and waiting for Dean to work on her.

Before they were ready, Doctor Zachariah Milton came in and interrupted their bonding. Dean’s face soured immediately the instant he saw his doctor. Castiel felt like a kicked puppy at the thought of having to leave.

“Good morning Dean. How are we feeling today?” the doctor said, his voice chipper. Dean both scowled and raised a brow at the doctor which made Castiel grin.

“This is... This is my dearest friend, Castiel.” The moment Dean made that statement his whole demeanour changed. He seemed to beam and a goofy grin planted itself on his face.

“Well, Castiel, I’m glad you’ve come to visit Dean and cheer him up, but you’ll have to leave. You can come back in an hour, hour-and-a-half.” Something in his tone sounded condescending and it made Castiel bristle.

Castiel pulled his annoyed glare from the doctor to look at Dean. Quickly he switched gears and gave him a warm smile. “I _will_ be back later.”

“That sounds awesome to me, man.”

Castiel touched Dean’s hand but left his affection there and didn’t lean in for a kiss—a kiss that he so desperately wanted to give. With a small sigh, he turned and walked away from them and into the hall. Castiel would wander the halls of the hospital, go to the cafeteria and count the minutes before he could be by Dean’s side once again.


	7. Chapter 6

[ ](http://imgur.com/62iUNmi)

Dean was forced to stay in the psychiatric ward for a full week. It took him that long to convince his doctor that he truly wasn’t suicidal. Although he really had to do some sweet talking and make up some really compelling shit for him to work around why he did what he did.

Every day for seven full days, Castiel came to visit Dean. Of course he had to eventually call his all of a sudden very nagging agent Crowley, and tell him that he’d be taking an impromptu vacation. When he told him where he was vacationing Crowley just laughed at him. Once he recovered from what Crowley thought was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, he started hounding him. _You need to get those chapters done… The publisher is breathing down my neck so I have to breathe down yours... You really shouldn’t be taking time right off now... You have too much to do... You have too many people counting on you for your next book to be released on time!_ It had been upwards of forty-five minutes of arguing with Crowley and Castiel defending why he needed to take a mini break before Crowley gave in. And his giving-in wasn’t much, but it was something. Crowley agreed to mostly to leave Castiel alone for two weeks, but he insisted that Castiel would have to email him nightly with an update to his readiness to get back on the horse and deliver more chapters. Castiel didn’t really want to agree, but he figured it was a safe enough deal.

During the week, Dean and Castiel talked for hours on end some days. Others they just enjoyed each other’s company while they had idle chit-chat. They had both discovered that through the years, and thanks to the dreams, they really did know each other in and out. By the end of the week, they had started to become braver with each other’s boundaries and the soft gentle touches and caresses of hands led to arms and shoulders. There was the odd touch of a thigh or a lower back which led, on the last day of Dean’s admittance, to the softest kiss that was way too quickly interrupted by Sam. Despite all the time Castiel had spent at the hospital, Sam and Castiel had always managed to miss each other by sheer moments. But this time, Sam was introduced to Castiel in the most uncomfortable way possible.

“Uh... hey Dean,” Sam said, clearing his throat.

Dean leaned to the side to see past Castiel. “Oh, hey Sam.” He managed to keep his voice casual, but inside his head he was screaming: _holy shit—holy shit—holy shit!_

Castiel turned around to see who had come in. He recognized the tall man immediately from the pictures he saw in Dean’s house as Dean’s brother. Dean and Castiel had talked about him so Castiel couldn’t help but feel like he knew Sam already despite never having met the man.

“So... Whassup?” Dean said. He was trying to keep his cool, and even he knew he was overcompensating. Castiel chuckled, but he also felt a bit bad for Dean. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in his position. At least Castiel was out and had been in a few relationships with men over the years. As far as Castiel knew, everyone in Dean’s life believed him to be straight, but here he was kissing another man—and a completely unknown man, to top it off.

“Uhm—who’s your... _friend_?”

“Sam, this is Castiel.” Dean left it at that and waited to see if his brother would put two and two together from the conversation they had on his first day at the hospital. He watched Sam as he narrowed his eyes, looking between the both of them.

It was Castiel that broke the awkward silence. “Hi Sam, it’s nice to finally meet you. I feel like already know you. Dean talks very highly about you.” Castiel turned to face Sam and extended a hand toward him. Sam shook his head to break him of his confusion and surprise, and then took Castiel’s hand into a firm handshake.

“Uh, yeah... nice to meet you too, Cas—Castiel?” Sam said, questioning if he’d pronounced the name right. Castiel just nodded. “You—Castiel—you aren’t the one that...” Sam looked at Dean now. “ _THE_ Castiel? The one you talked about? The one in your dreams?!” Sam’s voice elevated each time he made a questioning statement.

Dean smiled and nodded. “Yup, the very one,” he said, sounding almost proud of himself, for what, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he actually magickally created the man.

Sam’s shoulders relaxed but his shock remained. “Huh... _wow_!” was all he was able to muster. After a brief moment of looking back and forth, Sam asked, “So, how? I’m pretty sure that Dean didn’t like, you know, create you or anything.”

A sudden burst of laughter came from Castiel. “No. I’m pretty sure that I was born and lived my entire life up to this point in time with having just met your brother face to face. But that is an interesting theory though. Isn’t it Dean?” Castiel looked at Dean, his eyes shimmering with teasing.

“Hardy-har-har... laugh it up, there Cas. Maybe I _am_ a powerful witch... warlock? Ah, whatever... and I _did_ dream you up and make you real. Ever think of that? Is your mind blown yet?” Dean quirked an eyebrow then winked at Castiel. Both Sam and Castiel were grinning at Dean.

“No, my mind is not blown. However, I find your comment about witches and the craft interesting,” Castiel stated. He narrowed his eyes in thought as he looked at the Winchesters.

“I’m only kidding Cas,” Dean quickly added, seeing that Castiel seemed serious on the matter.

“Well, Dean—remember what Dad used to say?” Sam added, his voice on the quieter side, as though he was embarrassed to mention it.

“Oh, Come on Sammy, Dad was just a drunk who lost his marbles,” Dean said, trying to be indifferent about the past, playing it nonchalant.

“What do you mean? What did your father say?” Castiel asked. His voice was much lower than normal. His heart raced in his chest. He didn’t understand why, but he felt like this possible information was a key to what happened to him.

Even though both Castiel and Dean shared many moments from their life, like what it was like in high school for each of them, their first dates, their favourite... _anything_ —you know, the small things that make up one’s life—Castiel could never get himself to bring up what had happened to him that night that Dean had ‘summoned’ him. He never told Dean about that night, about how he did manage to get into his hospital room to _wake him_. But it now seemed that Dean might not have shared _everything_ either.

Dean looked at Castiel, his expression a cross between uncomfortable and faux-nonchalance. “It’s nothing Cas. Our dad... he was drunk most of the time and he wasn’t seeing the world in color—only white, black and red—the good, the bad and his revenge. What he talked about was nothing but a madman’s musings.”

“Dad wasn’t always drunk,” Sam uttered.

“What did your dad say, Dean?” Castiel asked, his voice more firm, more demanding of an answer. Dean rolled his eyes and a huff of breath passed his lips.

“Fine. Our dad used to tell us grand stories of how we come from a long line of powerful witches. When we were young he taught us spells and how to cast. I would have said that it was all bullshit, but...” he paused to look Castiel in the eye and gave him a small smile, “it seems that either our bloodline does have powers or magick is just plain ol’ real. Either way, this freaks me out—big time,” Dean said honestly.

“Dean, I think that we may have something in common here—besides our mutual... _fondness_ , for each other.” Sam and Dean simultaneously gave him a perplexed look that made him smile and he did his best not to laugh at their expression.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked with trepidation.

“Yeah, Cas, what do you know?” Sam quickly added.

“Well, I don’t actually know anything, per se. However, I, too, come from a family with a background in magicks.” Castiel paused suddenly, bowing his head, and then added, “Well, I think.”

“What do you mean, you think?” Dean asked.

“I figure, since my dreams of you were real, then my vague memories of being part of Wiccan ceremonies as a child must be real too. I’ve tried talking with my older siblings, but they tell me that it’s just my grand imagination.” Castiel explained. His demeanour seemed to crumble and Dean could see his anguish. Dean rested his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed it in reassurance.

“Have you talked to any of them lately about it?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should try again?” Sam suggested. Castiel looked at Sam and then to Dean.

“It’s not that crazy of an idea. Maybe they’ve been lying.” Dean said, adding his two cents. Castiel knew he meant well, but it still stung more than he’d want to admit. What if he was right and Michael, Luke and Gabriel had been lying to him the whole time?

“I don’t know what to think about my childhood anymore,” Castiel added, sounding deflated.

“Well, maybe you can call one of them. Do any of them live nearby?” Sam asked.

“Gabriel is the closest. Both he and I live in Pontiac, Illinois.”

“Illinois?!” Sam exclaimed, shocked. “How did you find Dean then?”

“That’s a story for another day, Sam,” Dean quipped. His brother gave him a slight bitch-face, but he could see that he’d be able to wait to find out the rest of that story.

“We can take a mini road trip, Cas. It’ll be nice. And it’ll give us a chance to... uhm... catch up.” Dean gave Castiel a sly grin and Castiel knew exactly what Dean meant by “catching up”. He could feel his ears turn red and he couldn’t help but reciprocate with an equally sly grin in return.

“Uhm... I’m right here...” Sam said needing to break up the moment they were having.

“Ah, come on Sammy, we’re all adults here. Give us some leeway; we just found each other after all.” Dean gave his brother the most charming and playful smile, which made Castiel laugh softly.

“Yeah, well, whatever. I can only take so much new stuff at a time,” Sam quipped. Castiel could tell he didn’t mean that in a cruel way and by the look on Dean’s face, so could he.

“So,” Dean looked at Castiel. “Ready to go on that road trip? ‘Cause I’m _so_ ready to get the hell outta here!”

“Yes. I guess I’ll just have to inform my agent that I’ll be back in Pontiac sooner than anticipated.” Castiel sounded somewhat miserable about it. Even he noticed his tone and how it inadvertently effected Dean, who frowned. “I’m sure Crowley will stand by his deal we made and let me have this last week still,” he said quickly, giving Dean a warm smile as if to say, _it’ll be fine_. When Dean gave him a doubtful look, Castiel quickly added, “You two go to admitting and sign yourself out. I’ll just go make this call quickly. I’ll see you in the lobby, all right?”

Dean and Castiel stared at each other, each sizing the other up. Eventually it was Dean that broke and responded. “Fine, I’ll see you there. Five minutes! Any longer, I’ll come to see what your dick of an agent is bothering you about. I’ll set him straight.” Castiel smiled. He could feel his body relax with Dean’s words of protection and unconditional support. He knew that Dean wasn’t just saying that—he meant it. With a nod of agreement from Castiel, the three men walked out into the hall only for them to separate once they got near the registration desk.

Castiel walked away from the brothers and headed off to a corner for privacy to call Crowley. It took only two rings before his agent’s growly voice came through, “Daaahling, so good to see you checking in again so soon.” His British accent could make anything he said sound smooth, even an insult or a crass statement.

“Hello Crowley.” Castiel’s voice was curt and he tried to hold back his sudden irritation with him. Other than the unnecessary sudden pressure to get his next book done, he didn’t really have any reasons to be bothered by him. Yet here he was, trying to contain how much he was bothered by him. “I’m calling to say that my vacation plans have changed. I will be heading back to Pontiac today—”

“Oh, is that so? How come?” he asked, cutting Castiel off. Castiel scowled at Crowley’s smug tone.

“ _However_ —” Castiel continued, his tone rather snarky, “I _will_ be taking the rest of the week off still. I’m not going back to work just yet. I’m only telling you this because I said I would keep in touch with you. If the publisher needs to meet with me, I should be able to do so. But I’d rather not until the week is through.”

“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist, Angel Wings.” Castiel cringed at his term of endearment. Crowley knew about the rather large tattoo of a pair of wings on his back. It was meant to be personal, since it was on his back and all, and it wasn’t like he went around shirtless. Not many knew of the cluster of stars on his left shoulder and the large black and grey wings that spread across his shoulder blades and down the backs of his arms to just above his elbows. However, a few years back on a book tour, he’d been at the hotel pool and Crowley found him, and all his tattoos became known to the other man. Even at that time, Castiel didn’t care if other people saw, but for some reason, having Crowley see them made him feel unusually vulnerable.

“I’ll keep them sated with my presence until you are done... _recouping_.” Crowley’s extra emphasis on the word “recouping” made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Castiel could feel that he was about to add something rather unsavory. “However, with that said, I’d like a quick coffee date with you. I have some book cover images that I need to go over with you.”

Castiel sighed. “Can you not just email them to me?”

“Sure I could, but since you’ll be here why not enjoy them in printed form. They are much more impressive printed out.”

Castiel sighed again and closed his eyes. “Fine, I’ll meet with you tomorrow morning. 11am, at our usual coffee house.” He hated giving in, but he knew it would just be easier that way; Crowley was able to talk his way into anything, any deal, and was so smooth about it that he almost made you feel like it was your idea to begin with. Castiel always thought that Crowley should have been a lawyer—or a used car salesman. He grinned at his snarky thought.

“Fantastic! See you then Angel Wings.”

“Don’t call me—” Castiel started to complain but Crowley hung up on him before he could finish “—that,” he muttered quietly to himself. He pocketed the phone and did his best to shake off how the conversation with Crowley had left him feeling used. He didn’t want Dean to see him like that. Or rather, he didn’t want to explain his spinelessness when it came to Crowley.

Soon enough, Castiel found the Winchester brothers waiting by the exit doors for him. The moment Dean saw Castiel, a wide smile spread across his face, which caused Castiel to smile in return.

“That took longer than we did,” Dean stated, not irritated but rather just for something to say.

“Yes, well, my agent, he can be very talkative—and persuasive.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean? You don’t have to get back to it already do you?”

“No, no... I just. Well, I said I would meet up with him. He has some images for the book cover that he wants me to see and he said it would be better to see the images printed out rather than on the computer. It’ll be quick, I promise. You can come; that way we can leave right after to see Gabriel.” Castiel’s eyes softened and he knew he was looking at Dean, silently pleading for him to be all right with it. He hoped that his eagerness to bring Dean along didn’t frighten him too much either.

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine Cas. I’m curious about this agent of yours and well, your life. So I don’t mind at all.” Dean gave him a wink and Sam just groaned.

“Really, Dean?” Sam protested.

“What?” Dean’s voice lowered a full octave in his irritation.

“’Scuse us Castiel, but I need to have a quick chat with Dean.” Castiel nodded and Sam immediately grabbed hold of Dean’s arm and pulled him away to a more secluded area.

“What’s your damage Sam, like, what the fuck?”

“Come on Dean, you hardly know this guy and you are acting all high school lust struck. You never even acted that way over your own wife!”

“Fuck you, Sam!” Dean retorted, trying his best not to yell at his brother and draw attention to them.

“Well, I’m sorry if that struck a chord, but maybe it did ‘cause it’s true!”

“You... you don’t understand. I have dreamt of him, of Cas, since I was a friggin’ child! A child! We grew up together, albeit in our dreams, but we _know_ each other, Sam. This isn’t normal, I know that! But it’s not fake and it’s not a trick either.” Dean could see his brother trying to wrap his brain around it. He wanted desperately for Sam to be okay with this, but if he wasn’t, he would have still kept on the same path to keep Castiel by his side and in his life.

Sam sighed, and ran a hand through his shaggy hair then over his chin. “I’m just... fine. I’ll trust you on this. But just be careful. Like seriously. This is so out of the norm for you. When was the last time you were even in a relationship with a guy?”

“Really? That’s your other argument?” Dean was stunned.

“Well, not really.” Sam looked down in shame. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Dean. It didn’t go down that well in the past. What makes you think that the people of Lawrence are any better nowadays? I just worry about you. That’s all.” Sam sounded defeated.

Dean knew that it wasn’t his bisexuality that was the real issue for Sam and he felt bad for even accusing him of that. Sam had to deal with the aftermath of his experimentations in his senior year of high school and also in his early twenties. On those two different occasions he had been beaten by the same asshole, Alistair. He was older than Dean by a good six years, and Dean only knew of him because Alistair lived down the street from him. It was near the end of John’s life, when the alcoholism finally took its deathly toll, and they ended up staying in one place for longer than three months. From the age of seventeen to twenty-two, Dean cared for both Sam and his father. Then it was just him and Sammy. And it was Sam who had found Dean beaten severely both times. The first time Dean was eighteen and Alistair jumped him when he was making his way home after school. Alistair, unbeknownst to Dean, had been watching him very closely and had seen him on several occasions making out with another boy from his school. Dean’s favourite spot for making out, unfortunately, was behind some shrubbery in a park near Alistair’s home. Dean had no idea that he was being watched, let alone that Alistair was a pervy creeper who liked to watch him. Alistair beat him, called him a faggot and threatened to even beat up Sam just for being his brother. When Alistair threatened that, Dean lost it and fought back with all he had. But Alistair was older and larger and the fight ended up with Dean having a broken nose and a cracked rib. Sam found him and helped him home but neither of them told their father why he had been beaten. Dean did his best at being his sarcastic self and told his father that the other guys at school just couldn’t handle his awesomeness. He could tell that his father didn’t believe him, but Dean also saw that his father recognized that there was nothing he could do to protect his son either. He was too sick to do anything, let alone beat up the asshole that hurt his son.

After that Dean had gone into super stealth mode. He did everything in his power to avoid being near Alistair’s house. It was good for nearly a couple of years. He even thought that the prick had maybe even moved. However, he was greatly mistaken, and it was his own error that got him nearly killed. When he was twenty, Alistair was on his porch smoking when Dean and his boyfriend were walking by. They had just left a house party and both were wasted and because of that, Dean had let his guard down and didn’t even think twice as to the route he had taken to get home. All he had on his mind was that he wanted to take his boyfriend home to make out—one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

Alistair egged him on by calling him a faggot, taunting that Dean liked to suck cock and that he probably moaned like a dirty little whore when he took it up the ass. Dean lost control of his anger and ran at Alistair. He was sure he could take him on now that he was older and had much more muscle mass then the last time Alastair had sprung a surprise attack on him. This time he was in control–or that’s what he thought. Again, he was sadly mistaken. The instant the attack turned against Dean, his so called boyfriend ran off at the threats of him getting his ass beat next. Dean couldn’t believe that he was left there, alone. Beaten nearly to unconsciousness, Alistair grabbed Dean by the collar of his leather coat and dragged him to his old make out spot. He begged Alistair to stop, to leave him alone, but nothing broke through Alistair’s psychotic nature. It was there that Dean was brutally raped. The whole time Alistair blamed Dean for making him think sinful thoughts, about how it was Dean that had made him think gay thoughts, how it was Dean’s fault that he had wanted to fuck him up the ass the moment he laid eyes on him. When Alistair was done with him, he spat on him, left him lying in a pool of his own blood. Dean didn’t know how long he was unconscious before Sam found him. He should have gone to the hospital, but he begged Sam to just bring him home. He didn’t leave the house for a nearly a month.

The rush of memory hit Dean hard and he grimaced. Dean couldn’t fault Sam for his worry.

“Things are different. Fucktard is no longer in Lawrence for one thing and I’m pretty sure there are no other psychos in the neighbourhood. Besides, look at me. Who the fuck’s gonna tangle with me?” He quipped, giving Sam his best sly grin, his arms outstretched to show off his undoubtedly strong physique.

“Yeah, whatever... you’re the Terminator.” Sam gave in and grinned. Dean patted his brother on the shoulder and Sam quickly followed suit.

“Damn straight!” he quickly added then glanced over at Castiel who was fidgeting and waiting nervously for them to return. “Better get back to Cas before he peels the wallpaper off that wall.” Sam snorted.

“Is everything all right?” The worry was evident on Castiel’s face as his brows came together.

“Everything’s fine Cas. Let’s go,” Dean answered, reaching out to touch Castiel’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll call you, Sam.” Sam nodded and said his goodbyes and left the two of them to their own devices.

As they walked out of the hospital Dean had a sudden moment of disbelief. He was actually walking beside Castiel. He was leaving, with Castiel. He would be spending an unlimited amount of time with Castiel! His heart fluttered at that thought. Sneaking a look at Castiel, taking in his dishevelled dark hair, the blue of his eyes, the crow’s feet that are more subdued when he’s not grinning—he was beautiful. Then it struck Dean: a feeling that Castiel couldn’t truly be his. Not now. But he didn’t know why his heart would tell him that, especially after they had finally found each other. Dean pulled his gaze away from Castiel and he became withdrawn. He hated his thoughts and hated the fact that his thoughts could ruin everything for him.


	8. Chapter 7

[ ](http://imgur.com/lf4Andm)

They drive in silence for nearly three hours before Castiel speaks up, unable to handle it any longer. There was something different about this stillness and it bothered him something fierce. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with the chat Dean had with his brother or what, but he had to know.

“Dean...” Castiel started only to pause. He wanted to talk, but he didn’t know where to start.

“Yeah Cas?”

Castiel could feel Dean’s gaze on him as he drove the rental car—or as Dean referred to it as the “piece of shit impostor”. They had to rent a car since Dean’s Impala was still in the garage, and ironically they ended up with the modern version of an Impala. Despite Dean’s outrage of what his ’67 baby had turned into over the years, he had still offered to drive. But Castiel refused, saying that he’d drive since Dean just got released from the hospital. After a bit of protest, Dean finally gave in. That was, for the most part, the last real conversation they had had.

“Are you hungry? We can stop at a diner and get food.”

“Naw... I’m okay—you know, unless you want to.”

“No, I guess I’m okay too.” Castiel answered gloomily. He couldn’t bring himself to lie about being hungry. After a long while of silence, Castiel found the nerve to finally just blurt out his concern. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean looked at Castiel, who snuck in a couple of glances between him and the road as he drove.

“Honestly? I have doubts. I don’t want to Cas, but maybe this is just all too much for me.” He paused and looked out the window. “Or maybe I just have this stupid feeling that I can’t truly be with you.”

“Dean... don’t say such things. Fate has finally allowed us to find each other. That has to tell you _something_.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean turned to look at Castiel again. A small, warm smile graced his features as he reached out for Castiel, splaying his hand across his thigh. “It’s just... I dunno.” He let his sentence trail off.

“I do understand Dean. Believe me. I am not without doubt either. But I do know that if I had wings, I’d fall from grace to be with you.” Castiel didn’t know why he said such a bold statement, and an odd one at that. He felt his face flush and he returned his gaze to the road.

“Well, I guess I better do my best to keep you from following me into my hell, then,” Dean said flirtatiously.

“Dean...” Castiel sounded stern, but Dean knew better.

“You know, I love it when you say my name.”

 

By the time they ate their greasy bacon cheeseburgers and had a few beers when they arrived at Castiel’s dark and empty home in the country, it was already nearing nine at night. Castiel called his brother, Gabriel, telling him that he would be coming by the next day to talk to him. He knew that he probably sounded crazy since he was so adamant that Gabriel tell him about their childhood, or at least anything that he could recall that was different about it. The phone call left Castiel feeling antsy and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Dean did his best to make him feel better, more at ease, which directed them to sit on the couch together watching TV and chatting about nonsensical things, like debating over what sitcom to watch or how the History channel had a lot to offer also. All the while their thighs touched and Dean automatically caressed Castiel’s leg. The longer they sat in close proximity of each other, the more Castiel thought about kissing Dean. Finally unable to hold it in any longer, Castiel turned on the couch to face Dean.

“Dean...”

“Yeah Cas.” Dean turned to look at him and the intense look Castiel exuded made his heart jump.

“Can I kiss you? I really want to be kissing you right now.” Castiel should have been embarrassed by the neediness in his voice, but he didn’t care. He wanted to kiss Dean so he could forget about everything.

“Oh, God yes!” Dean exclaimed and leaned toward Castiel until their lips collided. The kiss was deep and full of want. Castiel parted his lips to allow Dean’s tongue to slide along his. Dean had cupped his face but soon his one hand found his shoulder, the other sliding around his neck to grasp at his hair gently and Castiel moaned into Dean’s mouth. He was dizzy with excitement. This was even better than in his dreams, and the fact that it _wasn’t_ a dream made it even more arousing. Castiel breathed in the scent of Dean’s faded aftershave and he thrived at the feel of Dean’s stubble rubbing against his chin. His hands crept forward until they rested on Dean’s hips and he could feel Dean react to his touch.

Dean pulled back slightly. Their lips grazing as they panted into each other’s mouths in lieu of proper breathing. “I’ve been waiting all day to do that!” Dean uttered.

“I believe we have waited years to do that,” Castiel corrected with a coy smile.

“No, you know what we’ve waited years to do?” Dean didn’t wait for a response before taking action. Pushing Castiel back, he straddled one of Castiel’s legs, pressed his growing erection against his thigh, and rolled his hips. Dean leaned in and took claim of Castiel’s mouth to lick and bite at his lips. Castiel reached up, sliding his hands underneath Dean’s worn AC/DC t-shirt and pushed it up. He wanted it off. He wanted to feel Dean’s skin against his. Realizing what Castiel was trying to do, Dean pulled away and quickly removed his shirt, tossing it off to the side with abandon. Dean then helped Castiel out of his green t-shirt and tossed it somewhere along with the other garment. Dean eyed the stars on Castiel’s shoulder and part of him was delighted that he had them in real life and not only in his dreams. He wondered if the delicate artwork of wings spanned across his muscular back. All of a sudden, Dean started to kiss Castiel’s tattooed shoulder and continued to turn him so Dean could kiss and lick the back of his neck. Dean sucked in a quick breath when he saw the black and grey wings on his back. His angel _did_ have wings, and oddly enough it excided him immensely to see them.

When he gingerly caressed his back, tracing the outline of the wings, his gentle touch caused Castiel to moan. “Dean...”

“They’re beautiful Cas. _You’re_ beautiful,” Dean whispered then nipped at his neck playfully. Castiel spun in his arms so that they faced each other once again.

Their firm, warm chests press against each other as they began to kiss again, this time trying to calm the urgency they were both feeling. Dean began to rut against Castiel’s leg again in a slow and circular motion which caused Castiel to gasp in a quick breath. His hands that had been roaming Dean’s biceps, then his muscular back, now dip below the back of Dean’s jeans. Leaving one hand grasping at Dean’s ass, the other slithered to his crotch. Castiel cupped and squeezed Dean’s hard-on, causing Dean to moan. With the sudden need to free Dean of his constraining jeans, Castiel quickly unbuttoned and unzipped them. He reached in under Dean’s boxer briefs and wrapped a hand around his hot cock and began to slowly pump him.

“Oh, yeah... baby... oh God yeah,” Dean uttered against Castiel’s kiss-plump lips and rocked his hips to get more friction from Castiel’s hand that was already working him over.

After a long few moments of enjoying Castiel’s masterful hand-job, Dean suddenly pulled back, sucking in a breath. The look of pure desire—and dare he even think it, love—in Castiel’s blue eyes was almost enough to make him come right there. Castiel gave him a puzzled look when Dean slid off of him but once he saw he was only removing his jeans and underwear, he watched intently as Dean stripped, enjoying the show. The unadulterated attention that Dean was receiving was nothing like he’d ever experienced and it made him want Castiel that much more. It was like Dean existed only for Castiel and vice versa, and Dean was more than okay with that.

Once stripped of the rest of his clothes, he stepped back toward Castiel, standing between his spread legs. Dean reached for Castiel’s jeans, unbuttoning then unzipping them. When Dean grabbed both his jeans and underwear and started to tug them off of him, Castiel lifted his butt to help free him of them. Once naked, Dean climbed back onto Castiel’s lap. The hardness of their dicks touched and a groan escaped both men. Desperately needing friction, Castiel thrust his hips upwards, and Dean moved to grab both their cocks in his large hand. He rubbed a thumb over Castiel’s cockhead and then his own, smearing precum over their dicks.

“Oh, fuck,” uttered Castiel, his head falling back, exposing his pale neck. Dean leaned forward and laid claim to it as he licked, kissed and sucked. Castiel’s thrusting intensified. He knew he wouldn’t be able to extend their fucking to the next divine level. “Deeaaaan...” Castiel moaned.

“It’s okay, baby, you can come for me. Come for me. Come _on_ me.” Dean’s words brushed against Castiel’s lips. Both men panted, breathing in each other’s hot breath. Dean’s words alone caused Castiel to rock his hips with a more intense circular motion. He could feel he was on the edge. With one last thrust of his hips up into Dean’s hand, feeling the full length of Dean’s cock against his, Castiel’s body shuddered and his dick spasmed with fervour as he came. A few thrusts later Dean sucked in a breath, his body became rigid as he was brought to orgasm. Dean finally exhaled and laid against Castiel, smearing and mixing their seed on both their stomachs. Castiel idly rubbed Dean’s back for a moment before Dean slid off of Castiel to lie between him and the back of the couch.

“You’re right Dean. We did wait a very long time to do that.” Castiel craned his neck to look at Dean and gave him his best sly grin.

Dean huffed a laugh. “Mmm... _Way_ too long; let’s not wait so long for the next round, ‘kay?” He winked at Castiel who nodded in adamant agreement.

Feeling suddenly sticky and uncomfortable, Castiel blindly reached for the closest t-shirt and wiped them down and tossed it away again. He didn’t want to get up; he didn’t want to move from this spot with Dean. Even though he had a perfectly good bed upstairs, he opted for reaching for the blanket that sat on the back of the couch instead and covered them.

“It’s kinda crazy,” Dean said out of the blue, breaking the silence.

“What is?”

“Well, the fact that... I, uh... it feels like I know you so well, but I don’t. Not really. And this, this was something we’ve both dreamed, but it was like new, ya know? I like discovering you,” Dean managed to spit out, his checks blushing at his sentiments.

“I do know what you mean. I feel the same way, Dean.” Castiel turned to look at Dean and their lips met again. This time it was soft, loving kisses with no need, no lust or urgency behind them, and they ended up snuggled against each other and lulled into sleep.

Sometime during the night, Castiel gave in to his need to sleep in his bed when the crick in his neck had become too painful, waking him. He shifted on the couch, trying not to wake Dean, but the attempt failed, so he dragged Dean up to his room with him and the two of them climbed under the duvet. Wrapped up in each other’s arms they fell asleep, finally and truly content for the first time in both their lives.


	9. Chapter 8

[ ](http://imgur.com/CpdqPF1)

It was a delayed start to the day despite them waking relatively early. The morning wake-up call from Dean left Castiel panting and groaning as he gave him a mind-blowing blow job. Dean teased Castiel that he couldn’t let his morning wood go to waste, which lead to Castiel saying the same thing to Dean. After respective showers alone, because they couldn’t trust themselves to _not_ enjoy each others’ company if they showered together, they had a quick breakfast and coffee to go. By the time Dean and Castiel were ready to hit the road it was nearly ten thirty in the morning. They didn’t have much time to get to the coffee shop to meet up with Crowley before heading over to Gabriel’s for answers. Or at least hopefully he had some answers.

Even though Dean didn’t know the area he insisted on driving. Castiel just figured he wanted to try out his car so that he could make fun of him for his choice in wheels, a tan ’78 Lincoln Continental. But to his surprise, Dean hadn’t said a word— _yet_. It didn’t take too long to get to the small mom and pop coffee shop that Castiel liked to meet with friends and if possible for work related meetings. It gave Castiel a good excuse to come into town. He could be at times a terrible hermit, especially when he was in his own world when writing. Castiel loved the atmosphere and the older couple who owned the place. The thought of running a small casual coffee shop like that had always appealed to him, but he had never told anyone that. He figured it would be such an odd change in career and he didn’t want to be belittled for his strange desire for a possible future endeavour that may or may not even happen. So why go through the pain of voicing a simple thought?

Dean nervously tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the music that played on the classic rock station—his choice in music since he was driving, he informed Castiel. He could see that Dean was anxious. He didn’t fully understand why, but didn’t question him about it either.

In between directing Dean on how to get to the coffee shop, Castiel pointed out certain trivial landmarks of town and prompted idle chat in hopes of relaxing Dean, which in turn would help Castiel to relax also. After a relatively short drive, Castiel informs Dean that their destination is at the next right. Smoothly Dean parks outside the coffee shop, puts the car into Park, and turns the key in the ignition. Without looking at Castiel, he casually hands him his keys back and hopped out of the car.

Closing the car door behind him, Castiel smoothed out his tan trench coat and attempted to straighten his seemingly always crooked—and even sometimes backwards—tie. Pausing by his side, Dean smiled at him.

“You know, you make a very sexy tax accountant,” he quipped. Castiel tilted his head slightly and his brows knitted together.

“Why would you say such a thing? Sexy yes, but a tax accountant? That’s just being cruel, Dean,” Castiel retorted.

Genuinely surprised at Castiel’s witticism, Dean barked a laugh. “All right there Colombo, let’s go.”

Walking toward the door of the coffee shop, Dean started to tense. A couple feet from the entrance, he grabbed Castiel’s elbow to make him stop. “You know, I could just wait in the car.” It was with that statement that Castiel figured out his unease, Dean was afraid to meet the people in Castiel’s life. The idea of it made his heart flutter and he couldn’t help but find Dean cute.

“No Dean, I _want_ you to come in and meet Crowley. It’ll be fine. The meeting won’t be long. Besides, you will get to see the art work for my next book. And to be honest, none of my works would have been published if I didn’t have you as my muse.” Castiel smiled at Dean with sincerity and his blue eyes sparkled with admiration and Dean melted. He folded like a deck of cards. Dean should have been ashamed or irritated that Castiel had such a strong effect on him, but deep down, he was okay with it.

Dean nodded. “Okay,” he said and they continued into the shop.

The delightful yet pungent scent of coffee wafted past them as they headed to the back of the room. Dean followed Castiel’s lead since he didn’t know who Crowley was. The shop wasn’t very busy and the only person who sat at the back of the shop was a middle-aged man with short thinning, dark hair and short trimmed-beard, both with a spattering of silver hair. He wore a dark charcoal suit with a black button up and a blood red tie. He smiled once he saw Castiel and Dean heading toward him but the moment that they stood before him, Crowley’s grin faded and his expression morphed into something that Dean couldn’t quite decipher. He could tell that Crowley was trying to still look carefree, however his demeanour stank of shock and oddly enough—fear. All Dean thought was: _what a weird little man_.

“Castiel... so good to see you,” Crowley managed to say and pointed to the empty seats for them to join him. “Who is your pet?”

Castiel scowled and Dean could have sworn that he heard him growl his irritation which made Dean grin. “This is Dean Winchester,” Castiel said, choosing to ignore Crowley’s snide comment. “Dean, Crowley.” Dean nodded his greeting and they sat down.

“Dean,” Crowley repeated as though deep in thought. “I wasn’t expecting you to be bringing anyone. What’s the occasion?” Crowley leaned forward, pushing a manila folder off to the side.

“Uh, occasion? No, none really. We are just... he is who I’m taking my holidays with. Why does this concern you Crowley? Can we not just go over the images?” Castiel asked tersely, which caused Crowley to raise a brow at him. He then lifted his hands up as if to silently say, _sorry, truce_.

“All right, fine. We’ll get right down to business then.” He reached for the folder and pulled out the various pieces of artwork and laid them out before Castiel. The whole time, Dean watched Crowley as Crowley watched Castiel with growing discomfort. Castiel never noticed as he only paid attention to the artwork, the odd, “hmmm,” and “oh, that’s nice,” escaping his lips.

“Darling,” Crowley cooed in his British accent, “you seem different. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me? You know you can trust me, right?” Crowley prodded. Castiel looked up from the art he was examining, his brows coming together and his head tilting as he examined Crowley. The intensity of his gaze caused Crowley to sit back and cross his arms over his chest in a protective manner.

Castiel’s features only softened when he began his lie: “No, there’s nothing I need to tell you. I’m the same recluse that you knew before I went on holidays.” He turned to look at Dean and then back at Crowley. “Maybe just happier,” he added with a soft smile.

“I take it you’ve finally moved on from Balthazar then?”

“That is none of your business,” Castiel answered sternly. Dean narrowed his eyes at Castiel silently questioning, but his mate effectively avoided his eye contact. Just as Dean was about to ask who Balthazar was, he pretty much got his answer from Crowley.

“Well, even _I_ know that poor bastard had been your love slave for too many years. It’s a good thing that you have finally let him go,” Crowley said, adding his two boorish cents.

 _Balthazar had been Castiel’s boyfriend before I came along_ , Dean thinks to himself.

Castiel glared at the older man but kept his silence, for he knew that Crowley was unfortunately right.

Castiel looked down at the images on the table as his shame washed over him. He suddenly, very desperately, wanted to get out of there. He looked at the images once more before pushing two of them toward Crowley. “I like these two.” They were simple; one was a picture of a barren forest with the beam of the full moon lighting a path where a lone man stood and the other was a snapshot of a seemingly endless beach with waves coming onto shore and crashing on rocks. The sky was blood orange in colour and the sandy beach was black. It appeared peaceful yet uncomfortable to look at. Both pictures were beautiful in their simplicity.

Crowley stared at Castiel for a long moment before picking up a pen and marking the two pictures on the upper right hand corner. “I’ll send this off to the publisher. Can I tell them that you will have new chapters soon also?”

“Yes. Tell them that in two weeks I will have more for them.”

“Well,” Crowley said while gathering the images to put back in the folder, “I guess I’ll catch you on the flip side then, Angel Wings. You too Dean,” he added, winking at him. Dean’s face flushed suddenly as he became uncomfortable with the attention and looked everywhere but at Crowley.

With his paperwork in hand, Crowley started to walk away only to pause by Castiel. He leaned in to whisper into his ear. “It seems that Dean-o here has woken something in you and you don’t even realize it. For your sake, I hope you don’t. We are having such a great business venture together, you and I. I’d hate for things to change.” Crowley then stood up and patted Castiel on the shoulder. Castiel looked up at Crowley, puzzled, but didn’t say a word and Crowley walked away.

Dean, because he’s nosey, did his best to eavesdrop and he was successful. He wasn’t quite sure he was happy he overheard or not. Castiel’s blue eyes seemed darker and burdened with the odd statement and Dean couldn’t help but question him silently.

“Do you think he knows something?” Castiel asked, his voice sounding almost desperate.

“How the hell would he know something? You don’t even know, Cas,” Dean reassured.

“Let’s see if we can get some answers then.” Castiel rose from the chair and waited for Dean to join him. Together they walked out of the coffee shop and began their trek to Gabriel’s.

[ ](http://imgur.com/QUEkoNs)

This time, it was Castiel’s turn to be nervous. Was there anything to actually learn about his past? Did he truly want to learn about it? Deep down he couldn’t help but fear that what he’d learn he wouldn’t necessarily like. Dean had to practically drag him out of the car so that they could even walk up to the front door, and when they did, he had to push him every so often to keep him going.

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Don’t be a baby. You can do this, Cas. It’s only asking a few questions... crazy ass questions, mind you, but just questions nonetheless. You’ll be fine.”

As they stood on the front deck arguing, the front door suddenly swung open to reveal a shorter blond man with golden eyes and a devilish grin. He was dressed casually in dark-wash jeans and a baby blue button-up shirt.

“Thought I’d better let you two knuckle heads in, ‘cause it sure as shit didn’t look like Castiel here was going to knock. I don’t have all day you know.”

Dean didn’t know what to expect of Castiel’s family, but this wasn’t what he had in mind at all. He actually enjoyed the fact that his brother was a bit of a smartass.

“Gabriel.” Castiel’s voice instinctively lowered an octave with his exasperation at his brother’s behaviour.

“Brother!” Gabriel reached out and patted him on the shoulder then looked toward Dean. “And who is this fine specimen?”

Dean couldn’t help but snort at Castiel’s brother’s choice of words. Castiel looked at Dean pleadingly, as if to tell him that he shouldn’t egg his brother on, and then turned his scowl to Gabriel.

“This is Dean. My... friend.” Castiel was still having a hard time deciphering what he should call Dean. He wanted to be his boyfriend, his partner for life, but it was still too soon—yet somehow not. It was just another one of those very confusing things about their situation.

“What ever happened to Balthie? Don’t get me wrong, this guy’s definitely a step up—hell, he’s _four_ steps up!” He winked at Dean.

“Ah, you wish you could find a sweet piece of ass like mine,” Dean retorted playfully and the two men laughed. Castiel didn’t.

“I’d rather not talk about Balthazar right now. May we come in now?”Gabriel nodded then stepped back out of the way to grant them access to the house. Castiel suddenly gasped and Dean looked at him questioningly. When Castiel didn’t give him an answer, he followed Castiel’s sight line into the living room. He saw a woman with vibrant red hair and rich olive-green eyes and two men, one with short almost-black hair, the other with messy, short, sandy-blond hair. Both men had brilliant blue eyes similar to Castiel’s yet different.

All of Castiel’s siblings sat in Gabriel’s living room and looked rather petulant, aside from the woman. She seemed calm, and her demeanour, even without ever having spoken with her, reminded Dean of Castiel.

“What’s going on here Gabriel? Why is everyone here?”

“Come on, have a seat. No better time than the present to have a big ol’ steaming pile of family emergency meeting!” He said sarcastically, but Castiel could tell he was hiding an old wound of which he didn’t understand with his humour.

Following his older brother’s orders, he walked through the foyer and into the living room with Dean by his side. As if he knew, Dean grabbed onto Castiel’s hand to give him extra courage. He laced their fingers together as they stood at the threshold for a moment before Castiel guided Dean to sit with him on the couch.

“New lover, Castiel?” the blond-haired man asked snootily.

Castiel looked over at Dean and gave him an apologetic look. The sorrow that furrowed his brows tore at his heart. To send him his silent courage, Dean squeezed his hand as if to say, _it’s all right_. Castiel’s lips curled into a small smile of gratitude.

“The name’s Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Well, Dean Winchester... Are you Castiel’s new lover? His new toy?”

“Luke! Shut the fuck up!” Castiel growled. Dean’s head whipped to look at Castiel. It was strangely alluring to hear him curse and he couldn’t help but smile.

“My, Castiel, when did you start speaking such vernacular? It’s so unbecoming of you. What would father think?” Luke barked a laugh at his joke. Once he recovered he added, “Oh, come on now. You never did have a great sense of humour. Pity.”

Ignoring his brother, Castiel introduced the rest of his family. “Dean, this is my sister Anna,” he began, pointing in her general direction. A genuine smile of love and companionship softened his expression as he looked at her. She nodded her greeting, still silent. “This is Michael,” Castiel pointed to the dark haired man. “Luke,” he said dripping with disdain, “you’ve unfortunately met.” Unable to hold back, he scowled at Luke before he looked at Gabriel who had taken a seat on the arm of the couch near Castiel. “And well, Gabriel you’ve met also.”

“Well, now that everyone knows who the other is, shall we get this shit show on the road? I’ve got things to do... like get my wings back and poke and prod at the gates of hell. You know, the usual Monday routine.” Again, Luke’s laughter rang loudly. Anna gave him a look that Dean was pretty sure could kill any normal man, while the other brothers just shook their heads at their ‘silly’ brother. Castiel frowned disapprovingly.

“You said on the phone that you wanted to talk about your childhood Castiel,” Gabriel said, breaking the awkward silence.

“Yes. I have... many questions, but I don’t know where to start?”

“From your questions on the phone, Castiel, I’ve gathered what has happened to you. We just don’t know how it happened. That is, until you walked through the door with Dean-o here,” Gabriel informed him cryptically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked defensively. Gabriel just laughed.

“Yes. What do you mean Gabriel? I came here to ask about father and what I swear I can recall of the use of magick in our youth.” Castiel looked pleadingly at Michael. “Surely, _you_ , out of all of us, should remember— _something_.”

Michael let out a long, soft sigh. “Castiel, you are right, but only to a point. Our father did practice magicks. However, the magick was Enochian in nature.”

“Oh, like Cas’ name,” Dean blurted out. “Well more like the sigil for his name that is.” All of Castiel’s siblings looked at him, their faces blank, yet their irritation with him was more than clear. “Sorry, go on.”

“No Dean, you are actually on the right path,” Michael said, looking from him over to Castiel. “Brother, the magicks that our family uses are _nothing_ like the magicks that the Winchester clan practices. And yes, the Winchesters are very powerful. Look at what Dean was able to do! We never in a thousand years thought that a Winchester would ever free one of us from this earthly plane.” Michael sounded impressed by Dean which made him squirm in his spot on the couch.

“What did I do? I didn’t _do_ anything!” Dean exclaimed. He wished his voice hadn’t faltered, but it had. He didn’t sound as in control as he’d hoped. Dean began to worry that the spell he had cast had caused some sort of irreparable side effects and because of his selfishness he’d harmed Castiel. Dean felt ill at that thought. Noticing his lover’s sudden tense demeanour, Castiel squeezed his hand to try and calm him down.

“Let’s just go back to _your_ beginning. It’ll be easier that way, since neither of you are seeing it; whether because you are just blind or because you are too close to it and are afraid to see it,” Michael began. Luke snorted his derision over the situation. Gabriel only looked at Castiel with pleading eyes, as though asking him to forgive him for holding back information that he’d known all along. The only one that seemed somewhat in the dark was Anna, but even she seemed to know more than Castiel did.

“First off, Father pretty much married you two off when you were only a baby Dean, and Castiel here was, what two? So there you have it. Now you know why you’re so damned drawn to each other.” Dean’s mouth dropped at the news Luke had thrown out there so casually on them. Castiel’s body became rigid and he held firmer onto Dean’s hand.

“What?”Castiel managed to utter.

“Luke, seriously dude. Did you really have to say it like that? They weren’t _married_ , dumbass,” Gabriel retorted, giving Luke a quick glare and then looked to his youngest brother and continued. “It was a Wiccan betrothal ceremony, which sort of bound you to each other for when you were old enough to actually choose to become married, because to be honest, it didn’t always take.” Gabriel snorted a laugh, as if he was remembering something in particular about Castiel’s past betrothals, before continuing his thought. “But really, we’ve _never_ seen it take hold with anyone so completely before. As a kid, when you started saying you were dreaming of a boy with green eyes, after we were no longer close with the Winchester family, we knew that something was up. That had never happened before.” Gabriel gave Castiel a small, compassionate smile then quickly turned his attention back to Luke, only to shake his head disapprovingly at his brother who only shrugged in nonchalance.

“Fine then, be all delicate with them. They aren’t gonna break, Brother,” he replied snootily. The awkwardness in the room grew to be so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

“No, you’re right Luke, we won’t break, but do you have to be such a dick about it?” Dean said, feeling the need to protect Castiel.

“You’re feisty! I can see why Castiel is so fond of you. I do hope you have a brother.” He winked at Dean which sent chills through his body. There would be no way come hell or high water that he was ever letting Sam near Luke, he silently vowed. “Gabe is right though. In the past two hundred years, you’re the only one that’s been able to affect him like this, like no other bonded soul mate who was planned for him. I guess you really _are_ the one that Father wanted Castiel to be with. Huh...” he stated, letting his train of thought fade.

Castiel wanted full answers so he looked at his dark haired brother and asked simply, “Michael?”

“It’s true,” Michael began, sounding oddly shameful. “I was fifteen at the time. Dean, you had just been born a couple weeks before, and as it had been done for the past two hundred or more years, every second generation eldest born Winchester would be betrothed to the youngest Novak. It had been said in heaven that within the Winchester blood line that there will be a human who will release us from our perpetual reincarnation on earth. It isn’t until the death of the last Novak alive that the cycle begins again, with Father being born and then we all in turn are re-born. We have been reincarnated so many times that I’ve forgotten the faces of our many other brothers and sisters in heaven. We are _angels_ , Castiel. We may be fallen angels, but angels nonetheless.”

Neither Dean nor Castiel could manage to voice their overwhelmed thoughts, so Gabriel took his cue to add his two-cents worth. “Dean, you are the key. You are Castiel’s true-soul mate. You have unknowingly—or maybe Father _had_ been guiding you, who knows—freed Castiel. He has his wings now!” He turned his gaze onto Castiel and addressed him. “We still don’t and we need you to free us now, Brother!”

Castiel slowly pulled his sweaty grip from his companion’s hand. Dean watched him as a sense of revelation came over his mate. It was like something clicked and Castiel understood what his brothers were saying. Dean thought they all sounded nuts. His heart broke as he watched Castiel go from a deep, throaty, disbelieving-sounding laugh to being brought to the verge of tears.

It was like suddenly having a millennia of information downloaded into Castiel’s brain. He knew _everything_. It all made sense now. Castiel _was_ an angel of the Lord. He was one of His finest warriors who felt at home within His garrison. The realization that his family wasn’t Wiccan like he had thought made him laugh. He knew that the ‘power’ retained from been from being angels is what his father had tapped into. It was Dean’s father who actually had the Wiccan abilities and strength.

Castiel’s laughter faded. His chest ached and he fought back the tears that stung his eyes with the realization. All of them where fallen, made to suffer reincarnation until they learned their lessons, and only then would they be granted access to Heaven. Out of all his siblings, how was _he_ the first one to be granted such forgiveness, to be allowed his wings back? And if this were the case, how could he over look his Father’s rules and grant his siblings their wings through Enochian magick!? He was twisted inside. Castiel felt like his brothers had gutted him. _How dare they put me in this situation?!_ he thought.

“You guys are serious, aren’t you?” Dean finally managed to verbalize his thoughts.

“Yup... We felt it when you summoned Castiel and we knew then that he had his wings. It only confirmed it when he called me yesterday needing to talk about our childhood. We just didn’t expect him to think it was still about magick though. That’s when we realized that he’d gotten his mojo back but not his full memories.”

Dean looked at Castiel who was still in too much shock from his revelation to speak. “Why is it that you know, and he doesn’t?” Dean asked seriously, on behalf of Castiel... and himself.

“Anna was pretty much in the same boat as Castiel. They were in the same garrison together. She was actually his boss.” Gabriel pauses to laugh at that, but soon enough continues. “The rest of us, we fell before they did. They were just added to our “family” because we all fell for the same reasons. Because we chose free will over pure obedience. The rest of us, me, Mike, Luke... we’ve been in this loop for quite some time now. But you! Dean, you can give us our wings back.”

“We can have our wings _and_ our freedom!” Luke added eagerly.

“That would be too good to be true though, Lucifer...” Castiel said, speaking for the first time since the big reveal. Dean’s head spun to look at Castiel, his eyes wide, but he remained silent.

Seeing Dean’s reaction, the blond man said, “Yeah, well, you know how well a child named Lucifer would go over with people. So I went with Luke—it’s a good name.” He shrugged. “But to get back on track, what do you mean ‘too good to be true’? You’re proof it can be!” Luke... Lucifer... whatever, stated.

Dean just stared at him. He didn’t know how to take this news, the fact that he was in a room with the Devil was almost too much to process. That confirmed his earlier thought: _he will never meet Sam!_

“Father never gives anything away for _free_ ,” Castiel answered, sounding sad and defeated. “There must be some sort of repercussion to me getting my wings back.” All of a sudden, Castiel stood, grabbing Dean by the elbow to stand him up with him. With his firm grasp still on Dean’s elbow he started to walk away from the group.

“Wait—Castiel! You have to help us!” It was Anna. Castiel froze mid step, his head bowed.

“No Anna... I don’t think I can,” he replied, his voice deep and gravely in his sorrow. Not bothering to wait for any kind of response from any of them, he pulled Dean along with him.

“Castiel, please,” Gabriel came running after them. Only once he grabbed his brother’s shoulder was he able to stop Castiel as he opened the front door. “There’s more you need to know. I think you might have a demon on your ass. Please, will you just listen to me?”

Castiel turned in a huff to look at his brother. “Fine... But I’d rather not do it right now. I’ll call you later. I just have to get out of here. This has been all a bit overwhelming. I just need some space.”

Gabriel sighed. It was good enough for him. “Okay, all right. But in the meantime, make sure that you stay away from your agent.” Castiel’s brow furrowed at his brother. “I know it may sound like an odd statement but just trust me, okay?”

“I do trust you Gabriel. You’ve never treated me with ill will. And I do forgive you for lying to me, I understand why you did.” Castiel gave him a small smile and Gabriel patted him on the shoulder.

Gabriel then turned his attention to Dean. “You need to go and ease his tension, if ya know what I mean... baby bro looks like he’s about ready to explode.” He barked a laugh, clearly finding their expressions hilarious.

“Gabriel!” Castiel scolded, shaking his head, then pulled Dean outside and toward his car.

“I’ll call you later... but I’ll make sure that I’ll give you two a fair bit of time—you sly fox you!” Loud laughter billowed out from the smaller man and Castiel cringed.

“Yeah, well, he does have a point,” Dean said as he opened the passenger door for Castiel. As he climbed in the car, Dean winked at him.

“Dean...” His voice was scalding, but he could see the sparkle in Dean’s eyes that sent electricity through his body and straight to his dick.

“Yeah, yeah... things are all serious now. I get it. You’re an angel, and honestly, I don’t know _what_ that means for us now,” Dean said a bit too harshly and closed the door shut. He instantly regretted it but once he slid into the driver’s seat, he couldn’t find it in him to apologize. He didn’t want to hurt Castiel, but he couldn’t help but feel that way.

 

The entire afternoon there was an awkward silence between them when they headed back to Castiel’s place. By the time they had prepped, made and ate supper, Castiel had had enough. The fear that was building up inside of him had grown too huge to ignore. His fear of losing Dean because of what he was had become too much. Castiel needed Dean to know how much he loved him, which led to Castiel pushing Dean against the kitchen island. Dean quickly and easily followed Castiel’s lead.

Castiel gripped Dean’s shoulder firmly with his left hand and let his other hand wrap around Dean’s neck so he could slide his fingers into Dean’s short hair. Dean pulled away from Castiel’s plump lips only to kiss his way to his earlobe. Castiel hissed in delight when Dean sucked on his earlobe and worried it with his teeth gently. Castiel let his hands wander, sliding them along Dean’s chest, brushing over his erect nipples, down along his firm stomach only to pause briefly so he could massage his hips. A long breathy moan escaped Dean’s mouth and his hot breath brushed past Castiel’s neck—a sensation that made his dick twitch—as Castiel stroked his hand along Dean’s growing erection.

“Bedroom?” Dean suggested desperately.

“Yes!” Castiel didn’t have to be asked twice. He grabbed onto the bottom of Dean’s t-shirt and pulled him along. They paused from time to time as they made their way to the bedroom to kiss and grope even further. Each time they paused they left an article of clothing behind. First Dean lost his shirt and then Castiel’s was nearly ripped off of him in the living room. At the top of the stairs both men found them themselves without their pants within a matter of moments as their grinding against each other intensified.

Much to Dean’s relief they finally found themselves in Castiel’s bedroom. Completely naked, their bodies pressed against each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces. The sounds of their gasping breaths and smacking lips filled their ears, heightening their hunger for each other. Castiel directed Dean to the bed. Once Dean crawled, on his back no less, to the centre of the bed, Castiel was quick to follow. With his body hovering over Dean, he used a knee to spread Dean’s legs and settled himself there. They both hummed happily as they kissed. Castiel grabbed firmly onto Dean’s thighs, lifted them and dragged him closer so that their erections slotted together. When Castiel leaned forward to claim Dean’s lips once again, the friction from their torsos was almost overwhelming. Needing to thrust, Castiel pulled away from Dean’s lips and braced himself above him and started working his hips. His head tipped back, eyes clamped shut and a string of elicit words were uttered.

Seeing Castiel like this and the fact that Dean was the one who was sending him over the edge, brought _him_ even closer to the edge. Dean bit his lip, whimpered and arched his back to grind up into Castiel. The moment he did, it broke Castiel of his rhythm, which he was surprisingly okay with—not because he wanted to stop, but because he knew what he wanted next.

“Drawer, lube,” he said breathlessly. Dean followed his eyes to the nearby nightstand, then back up to Castiel and gave him a look of _you can reach it better than me_. Castiel rolled his eyes at him and Dean just grinned up at him sheepishly. He nearly had to climb off of Dean to reach into the drawer and pull out what they needed. Before Castiel did anything else, he looked into Dean’s green eyes, almost pleading. “Is it all right if...” he let his question fall away. Dean knew what he was asking, and he was more than willing and beyond okay with it.

“Yeah, Cas. Please!” he nearly begged. Dean watched with lust-filled eyes as Castiel ripped open the foil packet, and slid the lubricated condom over his dick. Flicking the package away, he grabbed the little bottle of lube and poured a generous amount onto his hand then tossed the closed bottle out of the way. He rubbed the cool liquid onto his sheathed cock and then some onto Dean’s, just because he wanted to jack him off some, which caused him to buck up into Castiel’s hand. He let his free hand slide down toward Dean’s puckering hole, caressing him, and then his whole body shuddered when he pushed a single slim finger into Dean. Castiel started pumping his finger in and out and Dean rolled his hips into the movement. Dean moaned and raised one knee and let it fall to the side, opening himself up more for him, encouraging another finger. Following Dean’s wanting, Castiel pushed in the second digit and a third after a few good thrusts and found Dean’s sweet spot.

“Ahhh... do it Cas... Fuck me!”

Without any argument, Castiel obliged. Spreading Dean’s legs wider, he stretched his fingers out so that the ring of muscle circled the tip of his hot swollen cock when he pulled his hand away. Castiel grasped Dean’s left knee and pushed his leg up. Dean lifted his hips and sucked on his bottom lip when Castiel pushed in. Dean keened as Castiel slid slowly, inch by inch, deep into him until Castiel was balls deep. It felt so unbelievably good and he hadn’t even started thrusting yet. Dean fell pliant underneath Castiel, as he finally started to fuck into him. A slew of nonsense and profanities passed Dean’s lips as he grasped onto the bed sheet for dear life.

“Ooh... fuck yeah. Oh, baby... like that,” Dean grunted when Castiel picked up the pace. Castiel was brought to the edge again. The feel of Dean around him, so warm and tight, he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to last. Wrapping a hand around Dean’s cock, he started to jack him off. Knowing that Dean was close, Castiel suddenly changed his angle. He knew he had hit what he was aiming for, and did so repeatedly, as Dean cried out loudly. Dean’s body went semi-rigid as his balls tightened and a tidal wave of euphoria crashed over him as he was brought to orgasm. When Dean involuntarily clenched around Castiel, it only took a few more thrusts and he was right behind him. Dean rocked his hips up to help milk Castiel through his orgasm. Left breathless, they panted into each other’s mouths before they kissed, unhurried. Eventually Castiel slid out, quickly discarded the condom and rolled onto his side to face Dean.

“I will love you forever,” Castiel blurted out which caused Dean to grin.

“I know babe. And for your kind, I guess forever’s a long time.” He kissed Castiel gently on his forehead. “And I’ll love you with all my soul. It’s all I can give,” he declared seriously.

“Dean...” Castiel was left speechless, so he did the only thing he could. He crawled into Dean’s space, wrapped his arms around him the best he could and kissed him, slow and deliberate. The kiss spoke volumes. They were blissed-out and content beyond words. Neither of them wanted the moment to end.

Later that night, they lay naked in bed, curled up in each other’s arms—even though Dean said he wasn’t much of a cuddler, he snuggled up to Castiel and relished it. They chatted idly, neither of them wanting to bring up the fact that Castiel was an angel. Both silently agreed to just enjoy each other for now.

It was near ten at night when Castiel’s cell phone rang. He was reluctant to answer it, but seeing as it was Gabriel, he figured he’d better pick up. That was when Dean and Castiel found out how Jimmy hadn’t left his kids alone on purpose, why John spiraled so out of control, and the reason behind his brother’s warning about Crowley.


	10. Chapter 9

[ ](http://imgur.com/GFKPH1y)

(Lawrence, Kansas—November 1983)

James Novak had tried to straighten up his best friend, John Winchester. It had been two weeks since Mary’s death, but it was clear to James that nothing and no one would be able to get through John’s thick, stubborn skull and get him to listen to reason. Despite the fact that the two men had drifted apart due to John’s drinking after his wife’s death and James’ need to become a hermit, John had called and pleaded to his friend to help him get his wife back, saying he would do anything. That statement is what brought James to find his long lost friend. He had hoped to save him, to help him _somehow_ , but it was too late.

After doing a locator spell, James found John in an abandoned warehouse in the industrial part of Lawrence. Standing in the large double door entrance where no doors hung, he scanned the area, searching for his friend. The moment he walked into the filthy and decrepit building the musky smell made his nose itch. He opted to breath from his mouth which caused his breath to billow around him. Once he found him, James was stunned to see the kind of magickal paraphernalia that surrounded John. From the upturned human skull filled with blood, animal bones and other powerful magickal ingredients, his heart sank. How could he have let his friend fall this far? It wasn’t until he was beside John that he was able to fully take in the sigil that had been drawn out in blood on the dirt-riddled wooden floor. He knew instantly that it was for summoning a demon.

“John!” He grabbed onto his friends arm and forced John to look at him. “What are you doing? This is not right! You have to stop this, now.”

“I can’t live without her Jimmy! I just can’t! Those boys... how am I... there’s no way. They need her... _I_ need her.” His voice quivered and tears welled in his eyes. “If I make one little deal, we’ll have her back. It’s simple. It’s clean and clear cut.”

“No, it’s not clean and clear cut! You do realize that you’ll have to sacrifice your soul to bring her back? How do you think she’ll feel when she learns of what you did?”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

“John, I beseech you,” Jimmy begged. “Mary’s death, no matter how devastating, it is the natural order of things. I wanted—I still do—to have my Naomi back, but I won’t do that. It’s a demon, John! This is not right. This is not the path you’re supposed to take!”

Even with his begging, something in John’s eyes told him that it was too late. It only took a few brief moments for it to be confirmed. There was a sudden breeze that brushed past them and then sound of a man clearing his throat. Both men turned to look at who had entered the building.

“Well, well. Hello gents. What do we have going on here? A wee tit for tat, John? I’m willing if you are,” the middle aged man said as he winked at John suggestively. He was dressed in a black suit and black button-up shirt, but no tie. The first few buttons were left undone; he looked professional, yet casual. His brown hair was thinning along the front of his hairline and he sported a short beard; both had a spattering of silver hair.

In his shock that the summoning spell had actually worked, John’s apprehension kept him quiet. Taking advantage of his silence, the older man turned his attention to James. Looking him up and down, his brows rose as though he had just had an epiphany.

“Jamaerah?” There was a bit of questioning panic in the demon’s voice. Clearing this throat he continued, and this time he spoke with confidence. John noted the shift in him and his arrogance shone with how pleased he was about his power over John. “It’s been eons darling. Not so fun to have clipped wings, is it? You shouldn’t have pissed off your daddy like that, eh?”

“Shut up, Crowley.”

“What’s he talking about, Jimmy? You know him?” John stepped back from his friend. He didn’t know if he should trust him, or punch him.

“John... please, you don’t understand.” John took another step back. James looked at his friend, beseeching him to listen, to understand, but the pained look didn’t help him any; John was standing firm with his new hesitation toward his friend. Recognizing that he wouldn’t be able to fix any issues between them at that moment, James turned his attention to Crowley, scowled at him with epic proportions and began to growl out the words, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas.” John looked at his friend, questions springing to his mind. He recognized that the words were Latin, but he wasn’t sure what James was commanding. James ignored his friend’s probing glare and continued with the chant, “omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolicab—” Out of the blue, James was cut off when Crowley cried out in pain as a vapour-like black smoke started to seep out of his mouth and nostrils. Before James could move or stop him, the demon charged at him. When their bodies collided, James went flying to the dirty wooden floor. On impact, his breath was knocked out of him and he gasped. Before James could recover, Crowley hovered over him and began punching him repeatedly, making hamburger of his face.

Despite their differences, and even though he had no idea what the hell just happened, John wouldn’t stand by and watch his friend get pummeled. He ran over to the men and once he was within striking distance, he swung at Crowley with all his strength. To his utter surprise and extreme pain, the punch that he landed square on the man’s jaw did very little and harmed him even less. John’s eyes widened with horror. Cradling his injured hand he staggered away from them. The moment Crowley rose off of James, the fear for his own life became all too real. Fear held John stock still as Crowley stood before him with a sly grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. He was delighted to be beating the shit out of someone. By the looks of it, the demon didn’t really care who he was beating to a pulp.

“You leave him alone!” James managed to say. He wanted to bring Crowley’s attention back onto him, and it worked. Dark thick crimson dribbled past James’ lips as he coughed up blood and more ran from his nose and ears.

“So defiant, Angel,” Crowley cooed and knelt down over him.

_Punch. Crack!_

_Punch. Crack!_

_Punch. Crack!_

“Stop it, you’re killing him! He has kids! How can you do this? Stop it!” John yelled in desperation.

“That’s the point, John,” Crowley answered, his tone dripping with arrogance.

_Punch. Crack!_

_Punch. Crack!_

_Punch. Crack! Gasp..._

_Gasp... Cough... Wheeze..._

“STOP!” John ran over to them. Surprisingly Crowley did stop, but John realized he only did because it was too late. John dropped to his knees before his best friend. The whole incident only took a matter of moments and his friend was gone. He had let his friend be killed.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” John cried onto James’ chest, resting his forehead against him. A sudden breeze brushed past him and he sat up. When he scanned the room, he was now alone with his deceased friend. He was afraid to call the police because of the satanic-looking paraphernalia, but he couldn’t leave James there either. Eventually he walked away from James’ now cold body and climbed into his car. He did the only thing he thought he could: he called 911 and left an anonymous tip and got the hell out of there.

He listened to the police scanners, although from a healthy distance from the warehouse. This was the only way he’d know that his friend would be found and his body taken care of. However, when the police arrived to check on the possible 187 and found that there was no body, only odd paraphernalia and blood, he began to panic. He knew deep down that the demon had something to do with it.

John had good intentions, but that night he drank himself into oblivion, to the verge of alcohol poisoning. He meant to look in on James’ children that night, even considered taking them in, but what he really did was drink until he forgot everything.

 

This was the moment that John fell so deep into his guilt and grief that it spilled forth into his life ten-fold and wreaked havoc on his relationship with his sons. He dropped off the face of the earth and dragged his sons around with him, except for when he dumped them off at his friend Bobby Singer’s place. Each instance, the length of time they were left there grew.

This was the moment that resulted in Castiel and Dean never seeing each other again and leaving both with a longing ache for something that neither men fully understood until they found each other again.

This was when Crowley got wind that there were possibly more fallen angels on earth—James Novak’s children. This was when Crowley sought them out and was able to worm his way into Castiel’s life. Crowley had to make sure that none of the Novak’s got their angelic mojo back as that would spell pure trouble for him and he was quite fond of his life as it was.

[ ](http://imgur.com/JOC5HM9)

Dean sat at the kitchen table while Castiel poured them both a stiff drink. It was rum, and not his preferred whiskey, but he wouldn’t complain.

“Why is my life so fucked up?” Dean asked rhetorically. Castiel knew that Dean was feeling some sort of guilt that his father hadn’t been able to help Castiel’s and that John had fallen apart so badly.

“You know it’s not your fault Dean.” Castiel slid the glass in front of him and sat in the chair beside him.

Dean sighed and looked at Castiel. Dean had bags under his eyes. With just having come out of the hospital, even though he was deemed healthy when he left, Castiel was sure that Dean’s slumber at night wasn’t as restful as what he would have had if he had been sleeping in his own bed. Dean grabbed the glass and swirled the liquid, making the ice cubes clink.

“Dean,” Castiel pressed. This time he reached out to him and rested a hand on his arm, caressing softly. “You had no control over our fathers. Please don’t do this to yourself.”

“But Cas, this is kinda huge, ya know?” He paused to take a healthy swallow from the glass. When he placed the glass back down, nearly half the liquid was left. “First off, we find out that we were betrothed. Maybe what we feel for each other isn’t even real! And then there’s the fact that you’re an angel... a friggin’ angel, Cas! Oh! Don’t forget the small fact that due to _my_ father’s weakness, he got your father killed! Like what the fuck, man! And now it’s come out that your friggin’ agent isn’t even human and that he probably wants you dead?!” Dean was on the verge of yelling. He paused once more to down the last of his drink. Slamming the glass down this time, he slid it toward Castiel. “This is just too much Cas. I... I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to protect you. There’s nothing I can do!” He lowered his head, unable to look his mate in the eye.

“Dean.” Castiel lifted his hand from Dean’s arm to his chin and made Dean look at him. “We will deal with this together. We will deal with each problem as they come across our path. Have faith, Dean. And if you can’t have faith in the universe, then have faith in _me_. Trust in us. There must be a reason why Father has bonded us. As for our love not being true, I think you are wrong Dean. Our love is pure. Our love is what will free us both from our worldly woes. We are two halves and together we are whole.” Castiel suddenly rose from the chair to hover over Dean who turned in his chair to face him. Castiel stepped forward to stand in between his spread legs and leaned down to kiss him. It was a soft, gentle kiss that sent a current of electricity straight to his... _heart_. Sure, Castiel was hot and he counted down the hours until the next time he could ravage him, but this kiss—it filled his heart with such reverence it ached in a delightful way. Castiel pulled away slightly, his lips still close enough to brush his. “I love you Dean.”

“I love you too, Cas.” Their lips collided once again, their tongues grazing languidly, yet underneath there was a heat that was building. Dean pulled back and looked up into Castiel’s blue orbs and a small sweet smile crossed his lips.

“Let’s head back to bed, ‘kay? We’ll deal with this unreal shit tomorrow. I just want to lay in your arms. Deal?”

Castiel nodded. He grabbed his glass, finished off his drink, then let Dean lead him off to his—to _their_ —bedroom. He didn’t know how the logistics would work, since they realistically lived in two different states, but either way, if Dean wanted to be with Castiel and live in his home here in Pontiac, he would be all sorts of good with that. And on the flipside, he would have no issues leaving with Dean either. He knew that his home would be wherever Dean was.

Back in bed, they lay curled up, their limbs twisted together. Both men tried their best not to think about how their lives had taken a turn for the unbelievable. Dean hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep until he was woken by Castiel who had started to squirm in bed. It was like he was either sick or in pain, Dean couldn’t tell which. He propped himself up onto an elbow and reached out for Castiel’s shoulder, giving a gentle shake to wake him.

“Hey, Cas, buddy—you okay? You gonna be sick?” Dean asked in a whisper.

Castiel woke fully. When their eyes met, Dean could clearly see the fear in Castiel’s. Beads of sweat had developed on his forehead and his body trembled under Dean’s palm. He suddenly sat up in a panic.

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t... I don’t feel... right.” Reaching for the nearest article of clothing, which was yesterday’s dress slacks and white button-up shirt, he started to dress. He didn’t know why he was dressing, but he had the strongest feeling he had to go somewhere, be somewhere. Just as he slipped the tan trench coat on, an intense vibrating sensation began to overcome his entire body.

“Cas... what are you doing? Where are you going?” Dean’s voice croaked.

When Castiel turned to answer him, a flash of bright white light unexpectedly filled the room, forcing Dean to cover his eyes with his arm. Castiel’s scream echoed in the room until it was cut off seconds later. Dean lowered his arm to discover the room was dark and quiet, and he was alone. His chest tightened in panic.

“CAS!!”


	11. Chapter 10

[ ](http://imgur.com/vRXCyLB)

When he came to, Castiel’s whole body felt tingly and numb. Even before opening his eyes he could discern that he lay on a cement floor, damp coldness seeping through his clothes. When he mustered the courage to open his eyes he found himself in a dark, dank, dungeon-like room. The distinct scent of mold and earth offended Castiel’s nose, but there was something else also, something almost metallic smelling. There were no windows and the space was lit with a dozen candles and three oil lamps that created unnerving shadows on the large cut brownish-black stone walls. Castiel wondered if he was in some sort of basement or even an old root cellar. As he sat up, the sound of a chain clinking and metal scraping on hard ground echoed in the small room. Castiel looked down at his right ankle when he felt a weight and a heavy drag on his leg. He had been cuffed. Tugging on the chain, he found that it was bolted down to the cement floor about ten feet away from him. Castiel gave it a few good tugs. To his disappointment, it seemed secure and not crumbling like the rest of the room.

“Ta, ta, ta... don’t be messing around with your bindings there love,” said a male voice, the words lilted with an English accent. Dread filled Castiel. It was Crowley. Despite feeling very weak, he clambered to his feet, which made him rather dizzy. As soon as his light-headedness subsided, he noticed red sketchy lines on the floor where he had lain. Now that he was standing he was able to take in the whole picture—it was the sigil for his name. At that moment he figured out what the metallic scent was. It was blood! The sigil was drawn out in blood. Horrified, Castiel started to wipe his hands on his jacket, wanting to get any blood off of him as quickly as he could. Thankfully though, most of the blood had seeped into the old cement and not much has gotten on Castiel himself.

Once Castiel was in control of his emotions, he looked at Crowley who stood in the shadows like a coward. “Where am I?” he demanded, his voice nearly growling in its intensity.

“I take it you know who I am now?” Crowley asked, ignoring Castiel’s question. The dirt that had been collecting for years on the cement crunched under his footsteps as he stepped into the illuminated section of the room. Castiel wasn’t sure if he was disappointed that Crowley looked, well, just like Crowley, or if he was relieved that he didn’t look like some evil, twisted human-hybrid thing. He was dressed in his usual black button up and black slacks, but this time he wore a long white butchers apron which had blood splattered along the front of it over the stomach and chest area. Castiel guessed that it was most likely blood from whoever he killed to do the binding sigil. He noticed as Crowley walked toward him that the darker shadow that had been by Crowley’s feet was left behind where he had stood. Castiel realized that it was the outline of a body.

“Yes.”

“Do you know who _you_ are?”

“Yes. And I _will_ smite your ass as soon as I’m free.”

Crowley raised his hands as if to say _calm down_. “See... this is why you never had many friends. You’re so judgemental, Castiel. Besides, that’s a pretty bold statement from you, Angel Wings, since _you_ are bound by _my_ trap. Pretty sure you’re the bottom in this relationship of ours.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Ah, straight to business again, all right. I want to make a deal with you. Simple.” Crowley stood on the edge of the sigil, where he knew Castiel couldn’t reach him.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Crowley, his anger filling him completely at Crowley’s words. “I’m an angel you ass! I’m not going to make a deal with the devil!”

A huge grin crossed Crowley’s face. His sudden eruption of laughter filled the suffocating small room. “Ah,” he started, between his dying laughter. “Well, thank you for the compliment—I think.” He actually tilted his head and thought about it for a moment before returning to his original train of thought. “Well darling, listen to what I have to say before you shoot me down. You may like it. You scratch my bits, I’ll scratch yours... It’s all about synergy.” Castiel stayed silent, only glaring at him. After a long few moments, Crowley started to speak again. “Fine then, tell me, how’d you get your wings back? Pretty sure you didn’t find them in a can of Red Bull,” he retorted. Castiel again stayed silent. He could see Crowley’s anger growing, and though he kept a cool exterior, Crowley’s reaction made Castiel flinch internally. Without warning, Crowley came charging at him. With the binding sigil weakening Castiel, the force from the punch knocked him hard to the ground. Crowley’s fist busted his lower lip causing blood to trickle down.

“Tell me, you smarmy bastard! How’d you get your wings back?” Crowley screamed while hovering over him.

“Why? Are you scared, Crowley?”

 _Punch... CRACK!_ He was sure his cheek bone was just broken. Castiel fell back. Ignoring the pain he got back up onto his elbow once again.

 _Punch... CRACK!_ Blood gushed from his broken nose. Castiel fell back again, and this time he laid there longer, needing to recover as white stars filled his vision.

“Do you have access to heaven?”

Castiel spat blood out, rolling his body to lean on his elbow again, and just glared at Crowley, silently saying, _fuck you_!

_Punch... CRACK!_

_Punch.... CRACK!_

A kick to the ribs took Castiel’s breath way. He stayed lying down.

“How’d you get your bloody wings back? Are you the only fallen angel this has happened to?” Crowley leaned close to Castiel and grabbed his chin, forcing Castiel to look at him. “I _will_ make you talk. Your vessel is still in this realm and I can do many deviant and torturous things to it. Don’t think I won’t. I will have you begging for mercy before the hour is up!” Crowley pushed him away and stood up. “Now, tell me. How did this happen?”

“No!” Castiel’s voice was raspy.

In his fury, Crowley kicked Castiel in the ribs another six times before walking away. Crowley methodically walked back pushing a metal surgical tray that Castiel hadn’t seen earlier. A white sheet draped over the tray was raised here and there, covering God knows what torture tools.

The brutality went on for hours. Castiel blacked out many times from the pain, only to be brought back with a splash of ice-cold water on his face. With each stretch of torture, Castiel found himself with less and less clothing. His body had been cut, burned and punched. The only brutality Crowley hadn’t used on him yet was sexual. When he was forcefully woken from the last bout, his concern about possible sodomy or rape looked like it was about to happen; all Castiel could think about was Dean and tears fell. He desperately wanted to be in Dean’s arms, to rest his head on his chest and listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He wanted to languish in his body heat and kiss him senseless, to show Dean how much he loved him.

Without warning Castiel was ridden with guilt, guilt for knowing that he would ultimately be leaving Dean alone.

“Dean... Dean... I’m sorry,” he uttered to himself.

“Hmm... what’s that love? Did you say a name?” He smiled cheekily. “Did I hear you say—Dean, your lover boy?”

“Le—leave him... alone,” Castiel managed to spit out.

Crowley kneeled down beside him and leaned in close. “You know, I went to Dean’s place after I met with you. I could sense something was different about you. It seems that there was a sigil there too. I couldn’t figure it out, until just now. Thank you, Castiel.” Crowley leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, the only place he was sure wasn’t swollen beyond recognition.

“Leave him alone!” Castiel demanded, louder this time. He could barely see Crowley as he walked away from him.

“Don’t you fret cupcake; I won’t touch a hair on that artfully tousled head of his. He’s not my concern. You are. You know what I did to your, _daddy_. You are the only being on this earth that can smite me. I like it here. I’d like to stay, ‘cause, well, hell is... _hell_!” Crowley fiddled with something on another tray but Castiel couldn’t see what he was doing. “So, just tell me, are you the only one to have angel-ed up? If you tell me, I’ll show you leniency. I _am_ a man of my word. A skillful business man would never lie, and I’m sure we can still work out a deal here, Angel Wings.”

“Go. To. Hell!”

“Oh, Castiel, you hurt my feelings,” Crowley said mockingly, his right hand clenched to his chest. After a beat he lowered his arm. “Fine, I guess we won’t be able to come to an agreement, you stubborn goat!” he huffed in frustration. “I _was_ going to give you the option of releasing your grace into the universe, which would make you human again. But since you’re being an ass, I think I’m going to keep your grace for myself. It could come in handy at some point I’m guessing. I think that sounds like a fair trade, since you are being a dick and all.”

“What are... you... talking about?” Castiel managed to ask. His whole body ached like nothing he had ever experienced before. Even though he was weakened by the binding sigil, he knew that it was his angelic grace that was keeping him alive. His heart beat faster and his chest tightened in pure terror when he realized that if Crowley took his grace, he would die. Crowley had a long silver blade in his right hand as he approached him. Castiel attempted to push back away from him, but he didn’t get very far before the chain stopped him. “No, no... Don’t do this! Please!”

“Too late. Besides, begging doesn’t suit you Castiel.”

He looked at the blade then at Crowley and back to the blade again. Castiel remembered the weapon; it was an angel blade—the only weapon that could kill an angel. It was about two feet long, with a cylindrical handle and a four sided blade. The whole thing was solid metal, shining silver, even in the dimly-lit room. With Crowley now hovering over him, he pushed Castiel onto his back with his free hand on his chest. Castiel pushed at the oppressing arm, but he didn’t have the strength to defend himself, let alone stop Crowley from doing what he planned on next.

“Since I’m such a nice guy, I’m gonna take my problem away and return you to the life you had before your lover boy messed everything up for us.”

“No... Please... Stop,” Castiel begged. He didn’t want to die. If he had to be an angel so he could still be with Dean, he would do it. But if Crowley took his grace—they would be nothing. _He_ would be nothing.

Without further comment, Crowley swiftly grazed the tip of the angel blade across the front of Castiel’s throat, then raised a small class container as a brilliant blue-white iridescent light flowed from the wound and into it. Crowley then put the cap on the container and pocketed it.

He heard a door click shut, a door he couldn’t see that was hidden in the shadows. Crowley had left him there to die. Castiel put his hands over the wound and warm blood flowed over his fingers. His body grew colder and an odd numbness cascaded over him as he bled out. White spots floated in his vision as the room grew darker. Castiel was tired.

_Sleep. Sleep sounds good. I’ll dream of you Dean, so we can be together once more. I want to be together... But I’m just so tired..._

_So... tired..._


	12. Chapter 11

[ ](http://imgur.com/EARq1Us)

It had been nearly five hours since Castiel suddenly vanished and Dean felt ill, the stress of trying to find a way to find Castiel nearly killing him, physically and emotionally. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he knew that Castiel was still alive, though Dean was less and less sure of it with every passing hour.   It was freaking him the hell out. After a few minutes of just yelling out Castiel’s name, Dean was finally able to pull himself together to start making some phone calls. He didn’t know what else to do. First he called Sam, though he wasn’t really sure why. It wasn’t like he would know where Castiel had vanished to or why he did, but nonetheless, he was overcome with relief when Sam answered the phone groggily.

“He—hello?”    

“Sam!”

“Dean?” he could hear his brother move about, undoubtedly checking the time. The sun hadn’t even risen yet. “What the hell?” he complained indignantly.

“It’s Cas... he’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone? Did he leave you?”

“NO!” Dean didn’t mean to yell, but he was becoming frantic again. “No, he—he wasn’t feeling good. It woke him up. I thought he was going to be sick, but then all of a sudden—POOF! In a flash of bright light, he was just... _gone_. He’s gone Sam. And I don’t know how to find him!” His voice began to waiver.

“Did you call his siblings?” Sam asked.

“No...” He sounded a bit embarrassed by the simplicity of the thought. It only made sense to call one of them, any of them, first. Dean was sure he would have thought of it next. “Maybe you’re right; I’ll call Gabe.”

“’Kay, you do that. Call me back and let me know if he’s there or if they know anything.”

“Will do,” Dean confirmed, then ended the call. At that moment, he stared at his phone, realizing he didn’t have Gabriel’s phone number. His panic started to rise again until he spotted Castiel’s cell phone sitting on his nightstand. “Thank God!” Dean grabbed Castiel’s phone and went straight to contacts. He had very few people in his phone so it didn’t take long for him to find Gabriel. He wasn’t sure which phone he should use, but in the end, he opted to just use Castiel’s. There was a much higher chance that Gabriel would answer when Castiel’s ID came up. He was right.

“Castiel? Why are you calling so early, what’s wrong?”

“Gabe, it’s me, Dean Winchester,” he said hurriedly.

“Why are you calling me on my brother’s phone? Where’s Castiel? What’s going on?”

“He’s gone—I don’t know where he went. I don’t know what the fuck happened!” He proceeded to tell him the same thing he told Sam.

“Do you know what that means? Where did he go, back to Heaven?” Dean didn’t realize how much he had feared that. Since Castiel got his wings back, would he have to leave Dean? The idea made him ill.

“No, that doesn’t sound like a call to Heaven. That sounds more like a summoning, and no one good would want to summon Castiel.” Even though Dean couldn’t see him, he could hear in Gabriel’s voice that he was trying to figure out the mystery, that he was starting to panic. In some ways Dean wished he had never called him, for Gabriel’s lack of knowledge and what he did know just made it all so much worse for Dean.

“What do I do? How do I find him?” he nearly yelled into the phone.

“First off, calm down. You’re no help to him like this. Give me some time; I’ll get back to you. What’s your cell number?”

After giving Gabriel his number, they hung up. Dean then immediately picked up his own phone and called Sam back.

“They don’t know, Sam!” Dean informed his brother, even though he hadn’t called all of Castiel’s siblings. Gabriel was the only one he really felt comfortable calling. Besides, he figured that Gabriel would be calling them anyhow.

“Okay, well, let’s take things into our own hands then. I was looking up spells from Dad’s old journal,” Sam started, only to be cut off.

“You still have that old thing?” Dean was shocked. He would have thought that given the hate that Sam had for their father’s obsession with _the occult_ , Sam would have tossed it ages ago.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “I couldn’t get myself to throw it away. It was like a piece of him; as whack-a-doodle as it was, it’s part of his history and ours. So I kept it.”

“Huh... how touchy feely of you Sammy,” Dean joked. He knew it was very ill timing for such banter, but he needed to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Dean grinned. He could just picture Sam’s perfect bitch-face. “Okay, so what are you thinking?” he asked, getting back on track.

“Well, I’m thinking Locator Spell. Dad has one in here and I have all the ingredients. It’s very simple; only need 4 blue candles, a bowl, lavender and water. The incantation is straightforward too. But Dean—I think you need to do it.”

“Yeah, fine. I’ll do it!” Dean answered immediately. There wasn’t anything that Dean wouldn’t do to get Castiel back. He’d sacrifice his own life if he had to. Doing an easy locator spell was nothing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull it off. But then again, he _had_ been successful with the love spell as well as with unintentionally activating of Castiel’s wings, so maybe he had the juice for it. Maybe he had more juice then he wanted to admit or fully recognize. And it struck him: Sam had already come to realize Dean’s strength and didn’t want to spook him. “It’ll be fine Sam,” he said, to settle any worries his brother may have had. “I just want to find him, get him back. I know he’s alive, I can feel it. But... I know that something’s not right either. Just hurry, okay?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Dean.”

 

It was now six and a half hours since Castiel had disappeared. The feeling that Dean had that Castiel was alive was starting to wane. He could still feel him, but he also, deep down, knew that they were running out of time. Dean had called Sam a couple times while he was on route to check in on his whereabouts. Sam didn’t mind though, because he was able to learn from Dean about the fallen angel thing with the Novak’s and how Dean had unknowingly given Castiel his wings back. It felt good to talk to someone about it, like a weight had been lifted. However, with one slight lifted, a different one grated on him. Dean hadn’t heard back from Gabriel and part of him was severely pissed off at him. How could Castiel’s family leave him hanging like that? Except Dean then began to wonder if the same person who abducted Castiel had also done the same to the rest of the Novak clan. As concerned as he may have been for them though, his first priority was Castiel. Dean couldn’t, and he wouldn’t, let himself feel guilt over that now.

When a knock sounded at the door, Dean nearly jumped out of his seat at the kitchen table. He bolted to the front door, but before he could even make it there, Sam had let himself in.

“Dean!” He had a duffle bag in his hands.

“Sam, you got the goods?”

“Yup, you ready?”

“Born ready; let’s find Cas!”

“Where do you want to do the spell?”

Dean did a quick 360 and came to the conclusion that the living room was the best place. “Here,” he commanded as he entered the space and pushed the coffee table out of the way to make room on the floor.

“This’ll work.” Sam tossed the bag on the couch. He pulled out and placed everything on the nearby coffee table: four blue candles, the brass bowl that was used in the last casting, a bottle of water, a small dagger that had a mother of pearl hilt and a bag of some kind of flora. Dean figured it was dried lavender. When Sam pulled it open, the sweet floral scent wafted his way, confirming his guess.

Dean had gone over the spell with Sam on his first phone check-in call and he had been going over it in his head since then. He felt ready. He _had_ to be ready.

Right away Dean started to place each candle in the direction of north, east, south and west on the living room floor, leaving enough room for him to sit in the centre. Grabbing the bottle of water, Dean filled the goblet three-quarters full and set that off to the side of one of the candles. He then sprinkled the jasmine around the candles. Sam handed him a Zippo and with urgency, Dean lit the candles and pocketed the lighter without thinking. The next thing Sam handed him was the small pearl-handled dagger. With the dagger in his hand, he stepped inside the circle of candles, sat down and positioned himself so that he faced west. Dean grabbed the water-filled goblet and placed it in front of him. Closing his eyes, he took in a few deep breaths. Sam could see his body relax as his mind calmed. Exhaling, Dean opened his eyes, peered into the goblet and said: “With my blood I beseech thee, Briant, Goddess of water magicks, accept my bonded Vitae.” Dean grabbed the ceremonial dagger and pricked his left index finger. Squeezing the tip of his wounded finger, he let the blood form a large droplet and waited for it to drip into the water, and then spoke again. “Let my blood and water show the location of who I seek, Castiel Novak—show me where my bonded soul mate is.” Scrying an answer in the water, he concentrated and waited for an answer to appear. The water in the goblet waved and a transparent image of Castiel was superimposed over his vision. He was nearly naked and appeared to be in a dungeon-like room where he was bound at the ankle and a blood sigil of his name was underneath him. Castiel barely moved. He was covered in blood, his face was swollen and large, fresh bruises were forming all over his body. It took everything in Dean’s power not to cry out his name. Dean _had_ to stay focused or he’d lose the contact he had made with the other side. He was then shown the exterior of a beat up and worn down farm house. A breeze brushed past Dean, and with it, the soft whispers of an answer: _Root cellar..._ _Near Route 66... by Freakster’s Roadhouse._ Dean’s eyes flew open. He looked over at Sam who sat on a nearby chair.

“Did you hear that?” he asked. It may have been a whisper, but it had sounded so clear and audible.

“No, but I sure felt a cool breeze though,” Sam replied. “What did you hear?”

“Huh... Well, Cas’s been taken to an old farm house off of Route 66, near a Freakster’s Roadhouse.” Blowing the candles out, Dean stood and walked over to Sam. “We need to go— _now_! He’s not doing well at all, Sam. I think whoever has him is killing him!”

“We’ll find him, Dean.”

Dean gave his brother a weak smile and rubbed a hand over his mouth and down to the stubble on his chin. It was what Dean wanted to hear, what he needed to hear, but it felt like Castiel was slipping away. That connection he had with him seemed to be so much dimmer now, to the point that it was only a quiet murmur, and his soul ached so much it physically hurt.

“Let’s go, Sam,” Dean croaked. Sam nodded and walked toward the front door. Dean did a quick detour and grabbed his ivory handled .45 he stored in the liquor cabinet in the wall unit. He then pulled the lowest drawer open and proceeded to grab the full magazine and slid it into place. Dean tucked it in the back of his pants then made his way to find Sam in his car already, engine going.

Dean’s heart raced so fast he thought he was going to have a heart attack. He was glad his brother was driving. Dean didn’t think he’d be able to focus on the roads and not crash Sam’s car, so he was okay with being the navigator this time. Following the GPS on his phone, he told Sam when to turn and how far they had left to go.

Dividing his attention between looking down at the directions and out at the countryside that sped by, Dean was distracted when a text popped up on his phone.

 

**Don’t wait for us. Go save Castiel!**

 

It was a simple and straightforward text, which unnerved Dean. This was the first he had heard back from Gabriel and it held no answers or confirmation of additional help.

 

**What do u mean, don’t wait! WTF?! Where r u guys?!**

 

Dean looked at his brother who was paying close attention to his driving since he was racing to get to their unknown location. “So it looks like we’re on our own. Gabe just texted and it doesn’t sound good.”

“What?! What’s going on?” Sam’s gaze darted from the road to Dean, then back to the road again, the worried frown evident on his face.

“I dunno, he hasn’t answered me yet. That is if he even will.” Dean huffed a frustrated sigh. With a spread hand, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples with his thumb and fingers, attempting to relieve the growing tension headache that was building. The sudden chime from his phone pulled him back to the task at hand. Looking at his cell, he saw it was Gabe who’d texted back. Dean was grateful for the quick response, but he wasn’t so much so after reading what was sent.

 

**Anna n I... we’ve encountered a bit of a problem. U can’t help us, so just save my brother!! If we make it out alive, we *will* find you and Castiel.**

 

Dean stared at his phone for a long moment. He was dumbfounded and speechless. _How dare Gabe just drop a bomb like that, oh so casually!_ Dean thought to himself. Not knowing how to respond, he let the text hang without saying anything back to Gabriel.

“It’s just us Sammy,” Dean uttered. “We need to find Cas. Drive!” Sam nodded and he pushed down on the accelerator in response to the new urgency. They were truly on their own. It was up to Dean to save Castiel and he would do anything, would sacrifice himself if he had to, to save his mate.

It didn’t take long before they crossed over Route 66 and saw Freakster’s Roadhouse on their left. Dean shut his phone off. Now it was all up to him and what he saw in his vision. Thankfully there was only one dirt road that came off of Route 66. Following Dean’s instructions, Sam traveled down the bumpy road, probably much too fast. The gravel had just been grated and it pulled the car one side of the road to the other. Dean scanned the farmer’s fields for old farm houses. All the homes they had passed already were either new builds or from the eighties. The house Dean saw was built in the early 1900’s.

“There!” Dean practically yelled, startling Sam. He shoved his finger forward repeatedly, pointing to the right side of the road. There it was: an old Victorian looking house with white peeling paint, the shingles on the roof curling and most of the windows busted. “I’m coming Cas, just hang on,” he whispered, facing the window. It had been at least half an hour since the smallest inkling of Castiel being alive had faded within Dean. It was replaced with quiet dread that twisted painfully in his gut. All Dean could do was pray that Castiel was still alive.

The car came to a sliding halt in front of the old farmhouse. Before the car was put in park, Dean was already hopping out. He didn’t know what to expect, but in his mind he was ready to take on anything. His adrenaline was so high, everything around Dean felt surreal. Pulling the gun from the back of his jeans, Dean started to search the grounds for doors to a root cellar. With his gun raised, he made his way all the way to the back of the house and there it was. The double doors were left open, which in Dean’s mind couldn’t be a good thing. He heard Sam come up behind him, and his brother was nowhere near as frantic as he was.

“Dean, slow down. Wait up,” Sam called out in a hoarse whisper. “You’re not going in there alone!”

Dean turned around to look at his brother and gave him an irritated look of _how dare you ask me to wait!_ It only took a few seconds before Sam was by his side. Dean walked into the dark cellar first, with Sam behind him. The transition from bright daylight to the dark dungeon-like space took a painfully long while before he could see again. When he could, Dean had almost wished he couldn’t see at all. There was no one there other than Castiel who lay on his back in the circular sigil. He didn’t move, and he didn’t seem to be breathing.

“CAS!” Dean put the gun back into the waistband of his jeans and ran over to him. Falling to his knees before Castiel, he reached out for him, but was afraid to touch him. He was completely naked, his ripped and bloody clothes strewn to the right of where Dean knelt and Castiel lay. “Cas!” he sobbed as he let his outstretched hand touch Castiel’s shoulder. He was so cold to the touch. “Oh, Cas...”

“Dean...” Sam came up behind him. “Is he...”

“I—I th...think so.” Dean stammered. Tears streamed down his face and his shoulders shook from sobbing. Unable to hold himself up, he bent forward and laid his upper body over Castiel. He didn’t like how cold his flesh felt, how his skin was sticky from drying blood and how the tang of his blood seemed to be the only thing he could smell. Dean nestled the side of his face against Castiel’s. He wanted to die too, with Castiel by his side.

Dean suddenly bolted upright, his eyes wide. He couldn’t believe it. Dean both heard and felt the softest gasp pass Castiel’s lips.

“CALL 911! NOW!”

“Oh my God,” Sam stammered and fumbled to grab his phone from his back pocket.

“Hang on Cas. Help is on the way. Hang on!” Dean whispered into his ear and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, his forehead, then his bluing lips. “Don’t leave me, baby. Please.”

 

It took well over fifteen minutes for the ambulance to come and nearly half an hour for Castiel to be admitted into emergency. It took only fifty-two minutes from the time Dean found him to when Castiel flat-lined. They worked on him for twenty minutes before the doctor called it and the nurses turned off the screaming machines.

 

Castiel’s time of death was recorded as 3:28pm.

 

Standing in the doorway Sam and Dean watched in disbelief. The time rang in Dean’s ears—3:28pm. He couldn’t breathe, gasping for air. The pain of his sudden loss was too much for him to bear. Sam tried to hold Dean up, but he slipped from Sam’s grasp as he fell to his knees. A couple of nurses came by to help Sam get his brother to his feet. The doctor then came over and started talking to them. Sam was nodding and responding when he should when being spoken to, but Dean didn’t hear a word he said other than, _you can say your goodbyes_ , and the hospital team left Dean and Sam in the room alone.

Dean pulled away from his brother and shuffled his way over to Castiel. He climbs up onto the bed and sits there for a moment, tears streaming down his cheeks. The tubes were still sticking out of him and anger bubbled within him; _how dare they leave him like that_!

“Baby,” Dean muttered. “No—this isn’t right. This isn’t how it was supposed to be! We should have grown old together. We should have been sitting on your porch drinking spiked tea and complaining about the dogs shitting on the lawn.” He choked in a breath. “We should have had more time. I wish I could turn back the clock. I woulda found you sooner, Cas. I would have found you sooner so that I could’ve loved you for longer.”

Dean was holding onto Castiel’s hand, caressing it. He lifted it to his lips and kissed him, then pressed Castiel’s hand against his chest. After a brief moment, Dean sucked in a few short breaths between his sobs and returned his hand to lie at his side. _You look peaceful at least_ , he thought. He leaned forward and pressed his warm lips against Castiel’s cold forehead and left his lingering kiss for a long moment and breathed him in. He could now smell the very faint lingering scent of his cologne.

“Dean...” Sam said softly. He stood on the opposite side of the bed, giving his brother his own space with Castiel. He looked up at his brother, his eyes swollen and red.

“It’s not fair, Sammy.” Dean paused and tried to breathe. “Why do I lose everyone I love?”

Sam didn’t know what to say. Tears of his own welled in his eyes for his brother. There was nothing he could do to ease him from his pain and that tore at his heart.

The buzzing sound of the overhead light that had become white noise seemed to intensify. Moments later the light began to flicker, followed by the light that hung on the wall at the head of the bed. The brothers looked at each other, exchanging questioning glances. Before any of them could voice their concerns or questions, the light bulbs burst. The room was dim for only a few seconds before an unknown bright light and shrill sound filled the room, blinding and deafening both men who alternated between covering their eyes and ears. A loud gasp filled the room and the light dissipated. Both Sam and Dean looked in the direction of where the sound came from.

“Cas!” Dean cried out.

“Oh my God,” Sam mutters.

Castiel looked between the two of them then locked his gaze on his mate. “Dean...”

“Cas, you’re alive!”

“So it appears,” he said calmly. Dean dived in to give him a hug and smother him in kisses. Castiel grunted and squirmed at Dean’s manhandling. “I may be back from the dead, but I still hurt all over.”

“Sorry!” Dean said and promptly released him. A grin filled with reverence and relief crossed his face and he didn’t care who saw it. He was stunned beyond belief but he wasn’t going to question Castiel’s resurrection for one second for fear that if he did, Castiel would be taken from him again.

Their moment was all too soon interrupted as a flurry of nurses and doctors came charging into the room.

“My God, you were dead!” One doctor said under his breath.

 

Castiel’s resurrection was considered a miracle throughout the hospital—if they only knew.


	13. Epilogue

[ ](http://imgur.com/K2yN8M7)

It was an hour before Dean was able to see Castiel again, and the whole time he feared that his coming back to life was only a dream. When Dean went back to be by his side, Sam said his goodbyes. Seeing as his brother had things under control, he figured he’d better head back to be with Jess. He had a nearly six hour drive to get back to Lawrence. She was expecting to give birth in a couple weeks and Sam didn’t want to be gone from her for too long in case of an early labour. Castiel thanked him for being there for Dean and for wanting to help him even though he didn’t really know him. Castiel was silently grateful that Crowley had left him there alone in the cellar. He never would have been able to forgive himself if Crowley had harmed or killed Dean, or Sam.

Gabriel and Anna were the first of his siblings to visit Castiel in the hospital. They prayed together for Castiel’s quick recovery and they apologized to him for keeping important information from him. Castiel forgave them freely, telling them that he couldn’t hold it against them; life was too short to do that. Dean had desperately wanted to ask them what had happened to them, what it was that they encountered, but he could see in both their eyes that they weren’t willing to talk about it. Dean wasn’t even sure if they would tell Castiel what they experienced. The only thing he was pretty certain was that his instincts were screaming at him that the whole ordeal wasn’t fully dealt with. He couldn’t explain why or _how_ he knew this; he just did.

When Michael and Luke came by to visit it was completely different. He could see how disappointed they were that Castiel was human again, and they cut their visit short after learning that. Again, there was something there, something that the older members of the Novak clan were holding back, and it bothered Dean immensely.

Five days later Castiel was released from the hospital and Dean took him home. Dean had been staying at Castiel’s while he was in the hospital. He had become comfortable and familiar with Castiel’s country home, even with the few photos of Castiel and Balthazar that were scattered around the house. Dean surprisingly didn’t feel jealous, but oddly felt a bit of guilt and responsibility for the fact that they were no longer together. “But what am I to do? We were just meant to be,” he said shamelessly to the picture in his hands, addressing Balthazar.

The first night Castiel was home, Dean made them spaghetti for dinner. Castiel was impressed that he had made his own meat sauce and even garlic toast. “Good looking _and_ a great chef? I think I may have hit the jackpot,” Castiel teased.

Dean beamed at the compliment and kissed Castiel passionately, pushing him gently against the island cabinet to hold him there. “You know, when you’re feeling better, I’ll show you some of my other talents I’ve been dying to show you.” Castiel smiles at first with ideas of his own, but at Dean’s words, _dying to show you_ , his smile faded. “Hey, babe... what’s with the frowning? I thought you’d be all over that learning process.”

“I—I _am_ Dean. Really, I am. It’s just... your phrasing made me think of something. Something that I thought was only a dream at first...” He let his words trail off.

“Cas, come on man. You can tell me.” Dean lifted his hand to cup Castiel’s face, rubbing his thumb along his cheekbone. Castiel looked down for a moment then locked his sapphire eyes on Dean.

“My Father spoke to me,” he began, only to pause.

“Do you mean Jimmy... or God?” Dean had a harder time addressing the last bit than he thought he would have.

“God, Dean. I didn’t see him. I only heard him. I think it was when I had died. I think I was in Heaven.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yes, wow,” he repeated with a hint of sarcasm. He gave Dean a quick smile before he continued on a more sombre note. “It was so—peaceful. I was sitting on a park bench, listening to the birds chirp and the sounds of kids playing even though I never saw any. That was when I heard Him. I knew with my entire being that it was Him.” Castiel paused. Dean could see that he was debating saying what he was thinking.

“Go on,” he coaxed.

“He brought me back Dean.”

“Well, I sorta figured that babe,” he smiled at Castiel and gave him a quick wink.

“This is my last chance, my last reincarnation.”

“Wha—what does that mean?”

“I get to live out this life, the rest of _my_ life, my _human_ life—with you, Dean. That is if you’ll have me. I really want my last time on earth to be with you.”

“Cas, you’re such a romantic,” Dean quipped. Castiel frowned at him and Dean chuckled. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Castiel’s and they kissed softly, yet behind it was a growing urgency they both shared. Castiel pulled back first, both of them breathless. “Cas, I will be with you until we are both old and grey,” Dean said. “I will shop with you, cook with you, do laundry with you— _make love to you_ , for the rest of our lives. I love you, Cas.”

“You know, love is what ultimately gave me my wings back. But _your_ love is more than that to me. Your love is what makes me human, not an angel, and I would choose humanity every time. I think God knew that. I will always choose you, Dean.”

They made love that night, slow and careful. They knew they should have waited, but neither of them could hold back after such adulation. Both needed to physically show the other _how_ much they did.

 

During Castiel’s healing, they endlessly discussed their future. After Castiel suggested doing a pros and cons list, they came to an agreement that Dean would move in with Castiel, the biggest factor being that Dean no longer wanted to live in the house where he had once been happy with his wife and daughter. Even though he had Castiel, and he knew that Castiel was enough, it was still a pretty raw thing for Dean. By the time Dean and Castiel went back to Lawrence to pack up his house, Sam was a father; Jessica had given birth to a baby boy who they named John Robert.

When Castiel was well enough to get back to his writing, the publisher regretted to inform him that they wouldn’t be accepting anything new from him. With the disappearance of Crowley, his agent, and his failure to inform them of his ‘accident,’ they assumed Castiel fell short of their contract and they let him go. He didn’t argue with them that he hadn’t gone AWOL and he didn’t voice his irritation when they stated: “If you’d like to submit any new material in the future we encourage it, and will accept any enquires you send.”

Crowley was true to his word. Castiel hadn’t heard or seen from him and he hoped for it to stay that way. He didn’t want to think about what Crowley would eventually do with his stolen grace. It took Castiel almost two months before he told Dean about that. Dean was understandably hurt that Castiel hadn’t told him sooner, but he eventually let it go. Besides, Dean had never broached the topic of his suspicions of what the aftermath of their ordeal might be, but his instincts were still screaming at him that something was coming. He couldn’t explain why he didn’t tell Castiel, except that he was sure that neither Gabriel nor Anna had spoken to him about what kept them from helping Dean find Castiel that fateful day. Everyone has some form of baggage and sometimes the weight of it takes longer to unpack than others. Dean understood, he really did, because Castiel had to deal with Dean’s issues every year on the anniversary of the night he lost his daughter and wife.

 

Six months after Dean moved in with Castiel, he saw that Dean was unhappy. It wasn’t unhappiness with them or their home life. He missed his brother and Jess, and he didn’t get to see his nephew nearly enough. Together they scouted a farmhouse in Lawrence that was very similar to Castiel’s. Dean even put a bug into Castiel’s ear about the local coffee shop that was in need of a new owner. Castiel still wrote, but now that he was with Dean, he didn’t write anymore on the _Sleepwalkers_ series, which would have been moot since his publisher dropped him. He wrote for his own enjoyment mostly, be it short stories, full length novels—even poetry. Even though Dean didn’t always understand Castiel’s poetry, that was what he enjoyed the most. The emotion behind it moved him more than he would let anyone other than Castiel know.

In the meantime, since Castiel wasn’t working, Dean re-opened his shop. It didn’t take long at all for his old clients to come back, and it gave them a nice home life, a domesticity that they both fell into easily.

 

For all that they had been through, and despite not knowing what the future held, their love was never stronger, their bond never more profound. Serendipity, fate, destiny—call it what you will. Dean and Cas just called it _love_.

[ ](http://imgur.com/JOC5HM9)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I had a blast writing it. Never have I written something so indepth in such a short amount of time. Inspiration is a wonderful thing. ;)  
> If anyone reading this fic wonders why I left a bit of hanging intrigue... well, if there's enough interest, I do have a sequel in mind. ;)  
> **Update: April 4/15 ~ I am currently working on the sequel! :D So if you were hoping for it, it's a comin'! I hope to be posting it by the end of the month. (fingers crossed)**  
> **Update: June 20/15 ~ Okay, so... that didn't work out so well. :/ I'm amost done though!!! However, I'm currently working on DCBB, so that's slowed this down. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll start posting a couple chapters at a time mid July. I'm sorry to anyone who is actually interested and may have been waiting.**


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